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 CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD

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David GS
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Leon Caprice
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Vincent Van Rose
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Rottata

Rottata


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PostSubject: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeMon Jan 03, 2011 3:41 am

CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Cornewlogodraft

CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD 6h2ohu

We open to the Jaro's office, where the new Chairman is conversing with FMW Commissioner Christian G. Smitten about the plans for the show.

Jaro: ...So, we're here in Turkey. What the hell can you do in Turkey? Isn't this place run by the terrorists or some shit like that? Will they bomb out the arena if we spill a shitload of blood?

Smitten doesn't look up from his clipboard.

CGS: Turkey is a relatively moderate Muslim country, and even if they weren't, I don't think they'd be opposed to bloodshed at a sporting event.

Jaro: Of course, of course. I mean, coming from a religion who does nothing but kill people... anyway. Good job defeating that Winchester rip-off Frost last show.

CGS: Thank you. When can I pencil myself in for a World title match?

Jaro: Woah, woah, hold on, I know I'm in charge now, but I can't just irrationally give away title shots like that. I don't like it either, but that fucker Frost has a legit title shot. A small price to pay for cutting Distortion, but whatever. He isn't gonna beat TyranT.

His dreams a little dashed, CGS doesn't answer; instead he continues to write on his clipboard.

Jaro: What bothers me more is this new merry band of losers they're cooking up. Frost and Caprice? And now that little Irish shit Celt, he hates me a lot, so he's joining them too? Fuck those niggers, something has to be done about them!

Jaro leans back on his chair and taps his chin thoughtfully.

Jaro: All right, I've got it. You're going to face off against Frosty the Snowman and the Leprecan't. Take Virus with you. Hell, take Faith with you too so TyranT can come along and fuck with Frosty on the side. No homo. No, wait, yes homo.

CGS: A handicap match? You don't trust that Virus and I can get the job done?

Jaro: What? Don't be a little bitch. That's not the reason; the reason is I want to fuck with their minds as much as possible. Four people will easily destroy two. Simple maths.

CGS: Very well.

Jaro: Yeah, that's right, you'll do the job and like it. And if you do it well, maybe I'll hotshot that title opportunity I promised. I mean, you know, if you take Hannibutt out and all, we won't have a #1 contender and all... get where I'm going?

CGS: Oh yes, I can see it just fine.

Jaro: Don't be a smartass. Also, have we finally gotten rid of all those Distortion losers and noobs? Not everyone gets a contract, right?

CGS: Uh, about that... we ran some audits and we found out that if we even fire half of the guys who are fighting for contracts... we can't run full shows.

Jaro raises his eyebrow.

Jaro: What?

CGS: We don't have enough people for full shows.

Jaro: Are you telling me I still have to pay for these cuntnuggets?

CGS: Unfortunately, yes.

Jaro: And there's no way around it?

CGS: If we don't run full shows, we can't maximize our profits, so no.

Jaro growls and swings his chair around, turning his back on CGS.

Jaro: Dammit... fine. But keep making them earn it.

CGS: Understood.

Silence.

CGS: Anything else?

Jaro: ...None. Get out of my office and destroy those cockmunchers, if it's the last thing you do.

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey


Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)

ALSO, the Sons of Attrition speak out, Dunnwood's condition is updated, and Mt. V is finalized!


PROMO ONLY until Monday, January 10 11:59 PM EST. VOTING AND PROMO (with Penalty) until Wednesday, January 12 11:59 PM EST.


* Only the team of Axel van Osbourne and Trey Spruance have to win a contract in their respective matches. Reynolds and Bonesnapper will still be fighting for one contract.
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Vincent Van Rose




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeFri Jan 07, 2011 10:07 pm

" He is being released?? Didn't he just go into rehab like a month ago?? HE has no one else to pick him up huh? All right tell Spru I will be there in a few to pick him up I was heading to my card night with the fellas...Yes Smitten I know he was my tag partner....

Axel exhales loudly as he hangs up the phone, shaking his head....He turns his Camaro toward the direction of the rehab facility he left Spruance at just over a month ago....

"He better be thankful for this....The guys hate when I am late for card night...."

Axel pulls up to the front of the facility and sees his tag partner waiting out front looking more put together than he has in awhile...duffel slung over his shoulder, he seems to be whistling while he waits....He pulls open the door as Axel rolls to a stop...

Hey buddy, Thanks for getting me outta there man....They gave me a total workup and guess what...They scanned my cat and said I was ok to wrestle again!!! Smitten put you and me in a match at 12.3 in like Turkey or Chicken or some shit....Ain't that cool, SFW is back baby!! I got your back this time no bullshit...

What?? Hold on a sec?? They scanned your cat?? Oh...You had a cat scan....And they said you have a brain and it works most of the time huh? Well that's fucking awesome man!! I got a copy of the card from Smitten this morning and we have a match against a couple rooks in TURKEY.....There ain't no country called Chicken....Good try though...I am headed to card night with some of my old FWE buds. I am sure they will let you sit in man...Is that cool??

That's cool I haven't played anything but bingo since I checked into the rehab place man...I would be up for a few hands bud....

Cool, cool just gotta pick up some stuff and then its off to my buddy Punk's place....Here we are man, give me just a few.....

Axel heads into the mini mart and grabs a few essentials and slides back behind the wheel of his prized Camaro....After a few minutes he and Trey pull up to the loft that holds Card Night....As he knocks on the door he imparts some wisdom to his newly straightened out bud....

" I know you just got done with some pretty intense therapy, these guys are all straight edge and shit so there should be no temptations aside from Root Beer and Cheese Doodles....Can ya handle that??

Yeah man I am good ... Don't worry about me Axel....

Punk asnwers the door and ushers AVO and Spru in introducing those in attendance for Spru and our benefit.....

Trey good to meet ya man, I am Punk. The guy over there in the hoodie and shades is EZD, or Dave. The fat blonde dude is Eddie and the other two are Mikado and Driver....

AVO's eyes turn to slits as he eyes the diabolical man that sent his life into a tailspin....MIKADO! Mikado returns his stare and the man's faithful bodyguard Driver cracks his knuckles, grinding his teeth as he locks eyes with Axel....

Good to see y'all with the exception of you Mikado....Who in the hell invited you to the weekly shindig....

I was invited by your "pal" EZD ... He said you folks were past what happened what....Ten years ago now....

Axel and Trey slide cautiously into seats facing Mikado and Driver never taking their eyes off the two men opposite....

Um yeah Mikado...Murder is kinda hard to forget...So I think Dave was how do say it....Wrong....but let's not ruin the night eh?

Punk slides into his seat and deals the cards uneasily....

You know the name of the game gentleman and for those of you who don't....I'm sure you will pick it up quickly.....

Mikado being on the dealer's right looks at his cards stone faced and begins.....

Axel, old friend, do you have any sixes??

Axel grimaces then smiles the trade mark wolfish grin.....

"Go Fish...you dirty backstabbing son of a bitch!"

You bastard....

Mikado reaches for the pile of cards spread out in the middle of the table and smiles....

" Axel, you ass, I thought this would be like poker or some shit....Go Fish!! Really?? Old Maid is really more of my game but I guess I can handle this....Who is that Oriental dude and the big ugly fucker by the way??"

Axel leans in whispering to Spruance....

That guy is Mikado and the ugly guy is Driver....The two of them killed my fiancee Becky about ten years ago because I wouldn't take a fall for him....I want to kill the sons of bitches with my bare hands, but I have to restrain myself....

Yeah we really shouldn't get blood all over Punk's white carpet huh??

Yeah that's it bud, just play cards and we will get outta here as soon as we can....

Then we will jump em in the parking lot??

Yeah, especially since you practically yelled it for the whole room to hear....

I am sorry I have trouble sometimes....CONTROLLING THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE!!!!

We see Punk shake his head in disbelief.....

By the way Axel, bud, I meant ask, what is up with that booming voice I hear every now and then??

Oh that?? I know it's annoying as hell isn't it?? That's Brian...evidently he is the guy that made all of us up and he narrates everything....I try and tune him out...I didn't think anyone else could hear him...

I can and have for awhile.... I just thought it was a bad trip, but I still hear him even stone cold sober....Funny huh?

Axel and the group just laugh and shake their heads....

There it is again!! Hey there Bri??? Is Axel treatin' ya all right??

He just ignores me most of the time, but I give him all kinda of shit to deal wit and it all pans out....

Awesome pile it on him man....HA!!!

The night wears on and the guys call it a night a few hours later.....Mikado and Driver make their way out first and Axel and Spru follow and all of the sudden Spru is leveled by a sharp blow to the back of his head and we see Driver step out of the shadows with Mikado and his Cheshire grin a few steps behind....

Jump us at our cars eh?? Well who has the upper hand now Axel my friend....

Well obviously the asshole that hides in the shadows and jumps my boy does, but that won't last knob gobbler, remember I was your right hand man.... I know all your moves, I taught you half of them for chrissakes! So do you worst Driver...

The gigantic body guard and Axel tangle much to the delight of the Asian mastermind....Axel is clearly out matched and subdued after a valiant fight....He is restrained by the gargantuan Driver as Mikado approaches....

Who is the "knob gobbler" now my long haired friend?? Driver take him and his pal to the car, we will show Axel what it means to cross the Mikado Organization....Once and for all

Stay tuned true believers....What will become of our heroes?? Will they make it to Turkey on time for their all important contract match?? What does the diabolical Mikado have up his sleeve?? See you next time ....Same Osbourne Time....Same Osbourne Channel!!!

Bri?? A rip off of the 60s Batman ending....Really?? WOW!! That's all I can say ....WOW!!! I mean same OSBOURNE time?? WOW!!

Punk?? What do you have something better??? What would you do.....Just.....

FADE TO BLACK......
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeSat Jan 08, 2011 7:25 am

The Dude. That's right. Trey Spruance. The man that was there during the original conception of The Misfits, is standing with a small petite woman by the name of Katy. He is smoking a cigarette calmly, leaning on a Harley Davison motorbike. Dirty combats and stained vest are his attire, a cowboy hat is perched on top of his head, long greasy black hair hanging down from under it.

Katy: Well you knew it had to be this way.

Trey: I do. I just... I don't get it. I dropped everything for you. You know? I dropped the whole thing and it's not as if I wasn't getting a decent paycheck ether.

Katy: I know you did sweatie but-

Trey: Nah, don't call me that. I can't believe it... You just want to quit after all we've been through?

Katy: I can't do it any more Trey I'm sorry.

Trey: You're sorry? You... You don't understand. I would give the world just to stay with you, if I had anything that is. All I've got is a lousey job cleaning dishes. I quit that “wrestling crap” as you called it because you said it was too easy for me to do drugs. Well that was true, so I did. Then I went to rehab like you asked. I'm fine. One hundred percent even.

Katy: I know how much you've done and how you tried to change but it's not that, it's because I'm moving on and up in the world.

Trey: ...Thats it, is it? You're moving up in the world and leaving little ol' Trey behind to rot in your dust wake?

Katy: …

Trey: I can't... Well that's it then. I'm going back.

Katy: Going back where?

Trey: I'm going back to Full Metal Wrestling.

Katy: What if it happens again?

Trey: What?

Katy: All the problems you had? Remember, the pressure from it? The constant travelling on the road? How will you cope?

Trey: I'll find a way, and this time, it won't be drugs or drink.

Trey lights up another cigarette regretting it immediately. He didn't feel the need to bring it up, but he had almost quit when he had been with Katy. Now he was almost chain smoking.

Trey: I'm leaving this job tomorrow.

Katy: I know it's a struggle to live like this but don't you think it's safer?

Trey: I guess but the pay is crummy. I can't afford nearly anything anymore.
Trey sits on his motorbike and puts a tattooed wrist around the throttle.

Trey: If you and me are finished, I'm going back and that's it.

Katy: Fine, be that way.

Trey: … Yeah. I will.

Trey drives off down a long winding road with Katy watching him go.

After a long plane flight Trey Spruance arrives in Istanbul Turkey to greet Axel Van Osborne who is meeting him off the plane. Trey smiles at his old friend and they exchange a quick high five
.

Axel: Hows it been man?

Trey: It's been hell. I met up with this chick which is why I quit FMW, then I went on to do some really crappy jobs and rehab at the same time.

Axel: Yeah man, I've been to rehab too. Shame really.

Trey: Well, at least I quit the drugs. I still drink though.

Axel: Same here man. Say, lets go grab a beer.

Trey: Do they even sell beer in Istanbul?

Axel: I think so. Even though it's like a Muslim country or something I think they have places to drink. So what happened with this chick then?

Trey: What didn't. We we're like practically married or some shit. Then she just quit all of a sudden.

Axel: Shit happens dude.

Trey: Yeah, tell me about it.

The two wrestlers stroll over to a taxi AVO had kept waiting and they jump in.

Trey: What was rehab like for you?

Axel: Pretty crummy. Couldn't sleep a lot of the time.

Trey: I know the feeling, it's like boring as hell and all you can do is read or watch TV. Worth it though.

Trey Spruance sighs and looks outside the taxi at a petite woman who looks similar to Katy.

Trey: I hate saying goodbye to girls after a while. Hurts more the more time you spend with 'em.

Axel: Try and think of something else, like alcohol for instance.

The taxi arrives at a bar not far away from the FMW Corruption arena and Axel and Trey Spruance get out, handing the taxi driver some money.

Trey: The main reason I came back was the money. I'm totally broke.

Axel: You should have stuck it out. Fuck that girl you we're with, at least now we can drink right?

Trey: True.

Trey Spruance and AVO go into the smokey bar and pull up stools at the front of the bar.

Trey: Hey, at least you can smoke inside here.

Axel: Yup. What will it be Trey?

Trey: Straight whiskey, no mixer, no ice.

Axel: Hardcore. I'll follow.

The bar tender pours both there drinks and they down it in one. Trey lights a cigarette and smokes calmly.

Trey Spruance: So we're wrestling for our contracts right?

Axel: That's true, I think mainly yours seeing as you've only just come back.

Trey: Yeah, sounds about right. Well, we better make sure we win then right?

Axel: Of course, but don't worry, theres no way we're gonna lose. We've got those contracts in the bank you can count on it.

Trey: If you say so. I'm worried about ring rust, it's been a long time since I've fought anyone.

Axel: Dude, So Fucking What is back in town, all we need to worry about is keeping the bitches away from us on our way down to the ring!

Trey laughs.

Trey: Yeah, you're right about that one. Lets go get ready at the arena then. I'm ready to do this!

Axel Van Osbourne and Trey Spruance leave the bar and call another taxi as the scene cuts to static.
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Jeff
FMW Corruption Ultraviolent Champion
FMW Corruption Ultraviolent Champion
Jeff


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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeSat Jan 08, 2011 6:02 pm

This has not gone nearly as well as planned so far.

Those are the first words from the mouth of J. Wroland Williams in his meeting with a few select members of Gold Standard Wrestling. This meeting takes place in Williams’s humble office. Despite being a tad small and quaint, an essence of anger permeates the room as Williams snarls from behind his desk, staring daggers through his two chosen representatives for the mission of invading Full Metal Wrestling, up-and-coming young superstar Jeff Whitt and GSW head trainer Crusoe, both dressed modestly in GSW tee-shirts and jean pants. Whitt simply looks down at the ground, while Crusoe’s pained expression looks back at his boss.

Williams: I had trusted that you two could make us look good. I trusted that the two of you could show a worldwide audience just how talented the wrestlers here at Gold Standard Wrestling are. Instead, you two have been quite the embarrassment. Quite the fucking embarrassment.

Williams stares coldly at Whitt, who takes the time to continue staring at the tile floor.

Williams: Look at me when I talk to you, Jeff.

After a moment, Whitt lifts his head, and locks eyes with his boss. Painted on Whitt’s face is an expression of disappointment, knowing he has let down the man that gave him his first and so far only chance.

Whitt: Mister Williams…

Williams: I don’t want to hear any fucking excuses from you, Jeff. Our entire company was represented by you! Everything we stood for was represented by you! And you have so far RUINED the name of GSW!

The young man winces. Crusoe, to his left, notices it out of the corner of his eye, and can’t help but feel sorry for his protégé. He has more talent than what he’s shown. He has the ability to tear the house down any and every time he steps through the ropes. Why hasn’t that translated over to Full Metal Wrestling?

Crusoe: Boss, maybe ya being too hard—

Williams (violently whipping his head in Crusoe’s direction): Can it. You trained him, you brought him through the system, and you’re managing him over there. You’re just as responsible for this mess as he is. Hell, maybe even more so, Pat.

Oh yeah, he’s pissed. Crusoe has never been called by his first name, Patrick, ever by the big man. Williams normally respects the wishes of his employees and refers to them by their chosen names. When he breaks that and starts calling people by their real names, you know the shit has hit the fan.

Williams: This experiment has gone on long enough, it seems. Ratings have since dropped for our show after Jeff’s first FMW appearance. Attendance has plateaued. Merchandise has stopped moving. Quite simply, gentlemen, the results we were hoping for have not come in. Instead, we’re back to square one.

Williams picks up a manila folder, filled with papers.

Williams: If you want to look closer at the exact numbers, here are the files.

With the flick of his wrist, the boss tosses the folder at Whitt and Crusoe. Papers go flying everywhere as the folder opens in mid-flight. Most of them land at and around the feet of the two men, who merely follow the files with their eyes.

Williams (sighs): And to think, this was going so well at first. Maybe Mr. Twitch was right…

Whitt looks back up at his boss, his pained expression changing ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrow. The very mention of Twitch angers Whitt. Why, he’s probably laughing right now about this entire ordeal, the smug, pompous, no-good prick…

Whitt: I doubt he’d have done any better than me.

Williams: Anything would have been better than what you have done so far, Jeff. He also has a few more years in the business than you do. I dare say that he would have done a much better job than you have. Wonder why we didn’t send him first.

Whitt: Sir, you agreed with the idea to send me there in the first place. I hate to point that out, but—

Williams: Then don’t point that out, if you’d like to keep having a steady income from me.

Whitt: With what money? I could drop this entire GSW savior angle and sign right with FMW, and make more money from them then I ever could with you.

Williams chuckles heartily.

Williams: Please! As if they’d sign you. After the way you have so beautifully failed against the likes of Riddle and Watson? Why would they ever keep you on the payroll, boy? Think with your head.

Whitt is now the angry one. His eyes are aglow with fury, and it’s obvious one more insulting statement from Williams could set the Truly Talented One off. Crusoe steps in front of Whitt before anything can occur.

Crusoe: Please, sir. You haven’t given us enough time. We’ve finally managed to get things going with out inside man…

Williams: Who lost this past show, don’t forget.

Crusoe: …and though he did lose, he’s clearly ready to continue on with our plan. If we stop now, right before we can get anything going, this will be all for naught.

Williams: It’s already all for naught! We’re losing money because of this whole thing! We all would have been better off just going under while on a high note, not losing more money while two of our biggest names flounder on national television!

Crusoe winces himself from the sting of Williams’s harsh words, and slowly hangs his head in defeat. He saunters back over next to Whitt, whose gaze has never been taken off of the boss. Williams prepares to dismiss the two of them when a light knock comes from the door.

Williams: Christ, what is it now? Come in.

The door opens slowly, and, much to the shock of the three men, the head of Leviticus pops in through the doorway.

Leviticus: Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing the commotion being made in here. You can get quite loud when you want to, Williams. Mind if I come in?

Williams rolls his eyes and sighs, but motions for Leviticus to make his way in. While Levi closes the door and walks over next to the other two, Williams thinks about how the plan should have gone down, with the identity of the inside man staying hidden and hushed until some big reveal, possibly at that last FMW pay-per-view, whatever it was called; he doesn’t have time to remember every little detail about a fed he barely wants part of. But it didn’t happen, and with the two being caught on tape scheming with one another a few shows ago, that part of the plan was no longer available to them.

Leviticus: You know, boss, you really oughta clean up your office. All these papers everywhere, looks like you’ve got a bathroom for a new puppy…

Williams (ignoring the quip): What exactly are you doing paying us a visit, Levi? Shouldn’t you be over at FMW?

Leviticus: Ah, yes, I guess I should. But I came to deliver some news. I was hoping to give it to just Jeff and Crusoe, but with all of us being here together, I’ll just spill it to everyone.

Williams: Fair enough. What is it?

Leviticus pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolds it quickly, and scans over it before reading aloud.

Leviticus: I’ll be wrestling on Ammunition against Storm, and Jeff gets Butters on Corruption.

Whitt: Wait, what?!

Williams: What’s wrong, Jeff? I’ve heard Butters is but a jobber. Afraid you can’t beat even him?

Whitt does his best to prevent himself from shooting Williams a dirty look. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down before continuing.

Whitt: No, that’s not it, sir. I’m an Ammunition wrestler. What the hell am I doing wrestling on Corruption?

Leviticus: Well, from what I was told, there simply wasn’t enough room on the Ammunition card to put you on it. So, FMW, wanting you to have a match, placed you and Butters on Corruption instead.

For whatever reason, this causes Whitt to grin. His smile goes ear to ear. Williams notices this.

Whitt: You know what that means?

Williams: What? What in God’s name could that mean?

Whitt: They wanted, they NEEDED to make sure I had a match. They needed to make sure a rising star like me was wrestling in a match. They don’t want to waste my Talent.

Crusoe: Why d’ ya always put so much emphasis on the “t”s at the beginnin’ of talen’? It sounds like you pronounce it with a capital T…

Whitt: They continue to give me time on their programming. Even if I lose, I’m still getting time to do my stuff. It’s because they see something in me.

Williams sighs. He seems to do that a lot. Jeff, ever the optimist, thinks him being on the other show means FMW went to great lengths to make sure he was on television. The boss, however, sees it very differently.

Williams: They could be setting you up to fail, son.

Whitt, Leviticus, and Crusoe all look at Williams, all sharing a similar, slightly puzzled expression.

Whitt: How so?

Williams: Your home is Ammunition, right? And you support what they could see as a threatening rival promotion, no matter how small it is? So they go ahead and put you in a match on their other televised program, against a guy known for losing. Why would they do that? You see it as a significant happening, with FMW doing whatever they can to put you in the spotlight.

Williams shakes his head.

Williams: They’re putting you their, filling you to the brim with hope, looking to knock you into next Thursday at the most opportune moment. When you’re the most confident and the least prepared.

Silence fills the room. Whitt looks from Williams, to Crusoe, to the floor, and back to Williams.

Whitt: Well then, I can’t allow that to happen, for the sake of GSW.

Crusoe: An’ you can be sure, boss, that I won’t let no one get near enough to do anythin’ ta Jeff.

Leviticus: Before we overthink this, I have one last announcement.

Six eyes turn to the former FMW Lightheavyweight Champion. Whitt and Crusoe eye’s show excitement; Williams’s eyes are hard to read.

Leviticus: Apparently, FMW has taken some time on the Ammunition show for an promo. A promo…from us here at Gold Standard Wrestling.

Whitt fist pumps and gives an audible “Yeah!” while Crusoe smirks. Williams doesn’t react.

Whitt: They’re giving us this opportunity. Of course…

Whitt looks at his boss, with a rather sly smile.

Whitt: …this could be a trap.

Williams: It could be. But this is an opportunity we cannot pass up. This is the best chance we’ve had so far, and we need to take advantage of it. The heads of Full Metal Wrestling have given us a chance for some free advertising. And we cannot afford to look foolish and weak during this…golden opportunity.

Whitt holds back a laugh and snorts. Williams glares at him.

Whitt: Sorry, Horatio.

Williams: Can it. Well, despite constant failing up until this point, I guess I have no choice but to allow this experiment to continue for another week.

Williams points a finger directly at Jeff.

Williams: But this will be the last week if nothing comes of these opportunities. You need to win, Jeff, and Ammunition needs to go well. Better than well. If not, consider yourself the laughingstock of GSW, and consider your FMW contract forcibly terminated.

Whitt stares back at his boss, coldly. A snarl grows on the face of the young superstar. Leviticus puts his arm between the two men.

Leviticus: Now, now, gentlemen. No reason for tension. We’ll make sure we deliver this week.

Williams: I hope so…

Crusoe begins to head to the door, followed by Leviticus. After a moment’s hesitation, continuing to stare at Williams, Whitt turns and heads to the door with the other two. Before they leave…

Williams: …and to make sure you deliver, I’m making you bring the others.

All three snap their heads back towards the boss.

Whitt: What?

Crusoe: You sure ‘bout that, boss?

Williams: Very sure. If we have an opportunity, we need to take advantage of it. Take the ones we agreed on to the show with you. They can serve as Jeff’s protection on Corruption, and they might come in handy on Ammunition.

Whitt, Crusoe, and Leviticus look to one another, genuine excitement and glee crossing their faces. The big chance to put GSW on the map…and it’s finally here.

Williams: Now get out. Prepare like you’re entering the war zone. And don’t you dare fuck this up.

The three men nod their heads, and head out the office door, slamming it out of enthusiasm. Williams sighs deeply as their voices taper off into the distance.

Williams: Well, thank god that’s over. I hope they’re motivated…

Williams walks out from behind his desk and heads to pick up his papers thrown from earlier. He grabs one gently and picks it up. On it, is has a graph that seems to indicate that GSW has actually been making a bit of a profit since Jeff and Crusoe showed up on FMW. Williams grabs another paper, this one with a graph on it that shows that ratings for GSW’s show have gone up by at least a third, with the highest ratings coming whenever Jeff is in the ring.

Williams (quietly): Heh. Good thing they didn’t look at these too closely. Might not have achieved the desired effect…

Williams looks back to the door, a piece of a smile on his face as the screen fades to black.



Last edited by Jeff Poliwhitt on Sun Jan 09, 2011 10:15 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : One piece of messed-up coding needed to be corrected.)
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Hannibal Frost

Hannibal Frost


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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeMon Jan 10, 2011 5:45 pm

Rated:

TV
MA

*For Adult Content, Mild Violence, Intense Sexual Situations, and Harsh Language


This Program is Recommended For Mature Audiences Only.
Viewer Discretion is Advised.



There's No Such Thing As A Happy Ending
Pt. 2



People.

They were everywhere.

But of course, how else should it be in the most lavish, upscale restaurant that The City had to offer? The Garden of Eden was bustling tonight, filled to the brim with the rich and powerful. The decor itself was worth more than most could bring home in a fiscal year.

A wide circle of tables and booths surrounded a modest dance floor on all sides. Patrons laughed, drank, and emptied their overflowing wallets as a string quartet played from the center of the floor. About a dozen couples commanded the space around the band, dancing slow and in rhythm to the wistful sounds flowing from the band's instruments like a fine wine.

Frost, clad in a more expensive version of his usual attire, took a sip of the aged brandy he'd been nursing all night. His corner booth gave way to a perfect line of sight. The entrances, exits, and shady figures were all where he needed them to be.

To his left sat Nick Webber, his partner and friend, trying his best to mask the nervousness bringing beads of sweat to the bridge of his noise.


"They can smell fear, ya' know."

Nick brought his gaze up at the sound of Frost's voice. The joke had been an attempt at calming the man, but apparently... it had garnered the opposite effect.

"I just don't understand why we're sitting here like, well... like sitting ducks. We need to be holed up in a fortified bunker right now. Not... fine dining."

Frost had never seen the man so shaken up. His brow length brown hair was showing signs of being matted by a nervous sweat, and his eyes were constantly searching the surrounding area. Well, sure, Frost had all but invited Kayla to join them tonight, but... what was the big deal? They'd handled demons before. Yeah, Kayla was probably the most powerful demon they'd encountered during their stint as hunters, and she had been summoned to kill Frost, but still...

"Is it even registering that we could die in the next ten minutes?" Nick asked, his hand shakily snatching a wine glass from the table and downing its contents.

"I have a plan, Nick. First off, we're in public. It's gotta' be a rule that demons can't just fire off their powers all willy nilly like in such a fine establishment. Secondly, I've got the upper hand. She could've killed me the first time we ran into each other, but she didn't."

Nick groaned. "Please don't tell me that our lives depend on a demon having feelings for you."

Frost looked away, unable to answer the question at first. Women would always be Frost's Achilles Heel. And at the top of that long list, Kayla sat perched on her throne. It wouldn't be too far fetched to say that her death had fucked the man up for good. In fact, that assumption would pretty much be spot on. Nothing had been the same after the accident. Nothing at all.

And now, she was back. The love of Frost's life had returned, as what else... a demon. And to do what? Kill him, of course.

Still, Frost couldn't help but sense that maybe old feelings still lingered inside that shell of body the demon now inhabited. Hell, maybe it was actually her. Frost didn't have a damn clue as to how the process of death to demon worked. All he knew was that Kayla could've killed him at El Mariachi, but she didn't.

She didn't...



Three Days Earlier


Pain had become such an inseparable part of Frost's life that he'd stopped noticing it lately, but... damn. Frost couldn't remember the last time he'd been taken to the limit like that. Not only had Smitten beat the ever loving shit outta' him, the bastard had walked away with the win too. Of course, Frost was sure that the man had walked away real sure he'd been in a fight.

That last thought brought a smile to Frost's lips.

But, as quickly as it had come, the smile faded. If he couldn't get past Smitten, then how the hell was Frost suppose to put down the invincible Tyrant? That man presented the biggest challenge Frost had ever come across in his time on this planet. Screw vampires, demons, and Gods and shit. Tyrant, in name and in spirit, was casting a shadow over everything. Like a volcano perched ominously over its surrounding valleys... the man had the power to destroy everything. Literally.

But, where there is certain death, there is the thrill of life. And Frost, at that moment, had the pleasant opportunity of it being breathed into him by none other than Gwen Richards. A subtle embrace of wanting lips brought him from the dark recesses of his mind and into reality.

The brightly lit lobby of the Clubhouse struck him as his eyes focused on the emerald depths looking into his soul. Gwen sat perched on the edge of the sofa tucked against the right wall of the lobby, looking down on her broken man with something like love in her eyes.


"Not gonna' cry about it are you?" Came the first words from her lips.

Frost cracked into another smile. "Maybe."

Gwen giggled, before cupping Frost's cheek with a smooth palm. "You've got what it takes to be the man everyone needs you to be."

Frost was amazed that she could see right into him like that. She could sense the doubt, the frustration taking hold. And then, with seemingly no effort at all, she could swoop in and take it all away.

"For some reason I'm inclined to believe you," Frost answered, knowing that only Gwen could make him believe in himself like that.

She smiled, and parted her lips to speak, but the sound of the front doors opening jarred the moment into nothingness. Frost glanced towards the massive double doors to find Leon Caprice, wrapped in a heavy jacket, bracing himself against the wind.

He nodded to Frost as he shut the doors behind him.

Frost nodded back.
"And so the storm fell... with no regard for the mortal world."

Leon shuddered, the cold seemingly icing his bones. "You've got that right."

Frost struggled to pull himself into a sitting position, and upon doing so, took Leon's hand in a firm shake. "The Abandoned Championship, huh?"

Leon returned the sentiment in earnest. "Tagging with Celt, huh?"

"Touche," Frost answered. "Seems we both have our work cut out for us."

And, with Frost's uncanny ability to strike at the well of bad luck with expert aim, the front doors slammed shut. The sound echoed throughout the now silent lobby.

"Didn't take long to find a knife in my back," The Celt proclaimed, his eyes never once darting in Frost's direction.

"Didn't take long to prove my point, either. That attitude is going to get us killed. Most likely in a literal sense," Frost said.

"I can forge an alliance on the grounds of a common goal. Doesn't mean I have to like you."

And with that, The Celt crossed the lobby to disappear into the stairwell. Leon looked at Frost, shrugging his shoulders all the while, before following in the Irishman's footsteps.

Frost fell back to sink into the couch.
"Why does everything have to be so damned complicated?"


Gotta' Hit The Head


The band on the dance floor was finally pausing for a break. The couples that had, only moments ago, been dancing their lives away, were now heading back to their respective tables.

Frost was going to use the commotion to take care of some business.
"Hey, Nick. I gotta' hit the head."

Nick rolled his eyes, the frustration at the current situation almost seeping from his pores. "Well, hopefully I'm not dead when you get back."

It was Frost's turn to roll his eyes as he stepped out of the corner booth. "You'll be fine."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, sure. If I'm not at the booth when you get back, just look towards the ceiling. I'm sure I'll be hanging there by my intestines."

Frost didn't respond to the snarky quip. Instead, he moved towards the restroom, casually melding with the crowd leaving the dance floor.

He was sure that Kayla would show up at some point, but that didn't mean he actually had a plan in place. Luring her out, and into a public arena, was as far as Frost had gotten in the planning process. He had no clue what he'd do when she actually showed up. Frost knew what he had to do, but wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to pull it off.

He had to kill Kayla. He had to kill the demon.

Frost knew, for a fact, that it'd destroy him all over again. Even when he was with Gwen, the demon was the only thing on his mind. The demon. The prophecy. Tyrant. They were all one in the same. Each one represented the same threat, the same wall that Frost wasn't sure he could climb. He had never imagined his life would end up here, and now that it had become a reality... it was a bit too much. Frost had stuck with his cocky demeanor, his quick witted one liners, and his trademark snarky attitude. But, on the inside, every bit of this was tearing him apart.

And on top of that... he really had to pee.

Pushing open the door to the Men's restroom, Frost immediately searched the small space for any other patrons. Finding it clear, Frost stepped up to a urinal and quickly did his business. The zipper to his dress pants echoed in the empty restroom as he moved from the urinal to the sink.

Warm water splashed over his calloused hands as a shadow crossed over him.


"Hannibal Frost?"

The masculine voice jolted Frost from his sense of ease. Yet, the reflection in the mirror looked completely harmless. Calming down, and pulling his right hand away from his chest holster, Frost went back to washing.

"Yeah?" Frost answered.

"Sorry. I'm just a... big fan."

Frost smiled, not having this happen very often, and turned to shake the man's hand.

He was gone.

Frost cocked an eyebrow, before glancing to the closing door to the restroom. Frost had never really thought of his presence as being intimidating, or imposing. At least... when it came to fans. So, the fact that the guy had tucked tail was a bit confusing.

Shrugging it off, Frost turned back to the sink and caught someone else's reflection in the mirror.

Fear slithered through him as he whipped around. Even though the girl before him was the most beautiful creature to have ever graced this planet, Frost was still afraid.

The girl then smiled... and Frost grew more afraid.

The girl then raised her hand.

Frost felt pressure building against him before he found himself cracking against the wall between the two mirrors over the counter. He went to move, but nothing happened. His limbs were completely unresponsive.

And Kayla just stood before him... smiling oh so devilishly.

Frost saw that even a demon wasn't above dressing up on occasion. Kayla's brown hair was hitting below her shoulders, the curls weighing it down. A black, strapped dress was hugging her curves. Bare shoulders, showing off flawless porcelain skin, beckoned his touch.


"Isn't this an interesting predicament?" Kayla asked, a rhetorical question so obvious that Frost felt like backhanding her. But, of course, he never would. He couldn't.

"It'd make my day if you took your clothes off," Frost said, pretty much just vomiting the first quip that came to mind.

Still, Kayla smirked. "Let's not jump the gun, baby."

"Don't call me that."

Kayla sighed. "Of course. No need in getting too personal. I am here to kill you after all."

"Why?" Frost asked.

"Because I was summoned to do so. Believe me, this isn't personal. I couldn't even find feelings for you if I tried," Kayla explained, but before another word could fall from her beautiful lips... she paused. Looking confused, Kayla closed her eyes, an internal battle seemingly taking place.

"I knew it. You can't kill me."

That statement might've been a little premature.

Kayla's eyes snapped open, bringing on a wave of pain that rooted Frost to the counter. He gritted his teeth, as his eyes locked onto Kayla's. She still looked human, but her irises were now a deep blue. They almost seemed to glow as another wave of pain washed over him.


"Oh... I'm going to do so much more than kill you."

And with that, Kayla went for the button and zipper of Frost's pants.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Frost asked, anger surrounding his words. He struggled to move, but his limbs were still disobeying his commands.

"Isn't this what you want? And don't lie to me. I can see straight through that pathetic little guise you have going on."

Her words weren't necessarily wretched, or evil. They were simply the truth... where the truth shouldn't be. Frost couldn't convincingly say no, but... he had to.

And yet... he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried.

The worst part was that he still had complete control over the words he spoke. He had the ability to at least say, out loud, that he didn't want her. But... he did. He always had, and he most likely always would.


"Like I thought," Kayla said proudly, whilst pulling Frost's pants and boxers down to his knees. Then, she climbed on top of him and hiked up her dress... showing off everything.

Frost, every instinct screaming for him to move, tried one last time. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. That left Frost helpless as Kayla grabbed him and slowly melded them into one being.



Two Days Earlier


Both Frost and Nick were standing in the Antiques Room inside of Organization Headquarters. A table, about waist height, was sitting before them. On the other side, Denisoff was leaning over the table studying the lone object before them, the Trinis Oculus. His steely gaze hadn't let on to any sort of clue as to why Frost and Nick had been called there.

"So... Kayla Frost is back?" Denisoff asked, his voice mimicking his eyes.

Frost let out a troubled sigh. "Yeah."

"I know this is complicating things for you, but it has shed some light on our mysterious artifact," Denisoff explained.

Both Frost and Nick traded glances.

Denisoff didn't wait for a reply before beginning.


"One of our techs noticed something not too long ago. The Trinis Oculus... seems to be alive."

Frost and Nick both traded glances once again, only this time they had many more questions. The Trinis Oculus had been tracked down, sought after, and even stolen on occasion. It would be a slight relief to have even an inkling as to why the thing was so important.

With that, Denisoff reached down and touched the small disk shaped object.

The brownish hue of the artifact's skin began to grow darker, and even squirm. The three circular impressions in the disk began to split apart... like mouths opening to feed.


"We've concluded that the disk is aware of Kayla's presence. The fact that she has stepped foot on this plain of existence has somehow brought life to the Trinis Oculus. It... lusts for her power."

Frost took in the man's English accent along with the newfound information. Unfortunately, he knew that this was only half the story. They now knew what, but there still wasn't a why.

"We need to bring Kayla in contact with the Oculus," Denisoff said, his intonation offering no room for negotation.

But Frost wasn't about to let that happen. This idea was ill advised and foolish. Yes, they'd figure out just what the Trinis Oculus could do, but... the results could end up being disastrous.


"We can't let that happen," Frost said.

"There's too many variables," Nick chimed in, his train of thought falling right into line with Frost's.

Denisoff flicked his gaze between the two of him, his lips twitching with just the barest hint of annoyance. Still, he remained calm.


"We desperately need to find out what this thing can do," Denisoff said, not budging on his order.

Frost shook his head. "And what if it gives Kayla more power?"

"That's a risk we have to take," Denisoff replied.

Frost slammed a fist against the table, causing the Oculus to begin squirming. He ignored it, though. Frost's attention, and subsequent anger, was headed for Denisoff.

"We have to kill that demon," Frost said.

"No. What we need is-"

Frost cut Denisoff off with another fist to the table. "I just said that we needed to kill her. Do you know how hard it is for me to say that? And don't say that you do, because you don't know shit. I used to love her. We had a life together. And now she has to die. This was a hard fucking choice, but it's the right choice."

Denisoff closed his eyes, seemingly trying to contain himself, before snapping them open again. Only this time, he wasn't about to argue. The man was heading for the door.

"You're right, Frost. This is your choice. Just don't let everyone down. I know you've got a habit of doing that."


Ride The Lightning

Kayla's rhythmic back and forth motion was the most blissful thing Frost had felt in a long time. His mind just couldn't seem to concentrate on any one thing. Not the fact that he was fucking a demon, the fact that Gwen was waiting at the Clubhouse for his return, or just how wrong this all was. Explosions of passion and ecstasy were attacking him from all sides, rendering him even more paralyzed than he already was.

And on the next forceful rock of her hips, Kayla locked eyes with Frost. Only, in that split second, Frost wasn't staring into the eyes of a demon. The girl atop him was just that... a girl. The one he'd so hopelessly fallen in love with before his time in FMW, and the one he so desperately wanted back.

Then, Frost found that he had control over his body.

With nothing holding him back, Frost launched forward and wrapped his arms around Kayla. His lips were now locked with hers, the urge to be intertwined with her now completely satisfied. Atop the counter, they rocked in motion. Each movement was synchronized, both beings in complete harmony with one another.

Frost pulled back from the kiss, unable to hold it for any longer. He was nearing his threshold. And the look in Kayla's eyes said that she could sense it. The girl started to rock harder, furiously even, as Frost began to clinch with the first wave of euphoria. It felt like hours, but in seconds Frost was slumped against Kayla, breathing heavily.

They sat there, for what seemed like eternity, until Frost locked eyes with Kayla.


"I love you..."

The words had come so fast that Frost couldn't stop them. It was the first thing that came to mind. Force of an old habit, maybe. Or, as Frost suspected, those words were only the truth.

Kayla's answer surprised him even more.


"I... I love..."

And then she stopped, a blue fury highlighting her eyes.

Kayla fell back onto the floor, an internal struggle leaving her crippled on the floor. Frost, thrown for a loop with confusion, slipped off the counter. He hurriedly pulled his pants up and buttoned them, all the while keeping an eye on Kayla. She remained shaking on the floor, growls slipping past her lips every so often.

Frost slowly bent down, his hand resting on her shoulder.


"Kayla..." Frost whispered, trying to sooth her back into a coherent state.

But obviously, coherent was out the window.

Frost felt the floor disappear out from under him as his body was flung into towards the stalls behind him. The stall door ripped from its hinges, the power of the throw too much to handle, leaving Frost slumped against it.

Finally, Kayla rose from the floor, her real demon appearance dominating the room.


"I don't know what you've done, but... I'll kill you for it," Kayla said, every word a seething mess.

Frost went for the pistol holstered against his chest, preparing to defend himself, but in the next instant... Kayla was gone. It had seemed like all Frost did was blink, therefore erasing her presence from the room.

Then, with being alone, thoughts began to assault Frost from all sides. What had he been thinking? Fucking a demon? Really? No matter how much he wanted it, that girl would never be the Kayla he used to love. It would never happen, and now he had let down everyone... again.

Instead of killing the demon, and clearing his mind for the tough road to come, he'd slept with her. He'd complicated things far beyond his mental threshold and... it only seemed par for the course. Things had progressed way too fast. There were so many enemies, so many obstacles, and they were all attacking from every direction.

On top of it, Frost was now being seen as a leader. His fledging team of do-gooders needed a strong leader, one with his head screwed on tight.

He couldn't let them down.

He couldn't let everyone down.

Not again.
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TyranT




Posts : 161
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Join date : 2009-12-06
Age : 38

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FMW Superstar: TyranT/Faith
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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeMon Jan 10, 2011 6:44 pm

He would be here, it was only a matter of time. The real question was if Faith would still be there by the time he finally arrived. The mute girl was not certain, not with all that had been going on. She was tempted to finish her drink and move on, after all, she did have a match to prepare for that was fast closing in. No one was more surprised then Faith when the card for Corruption was announced, forcing the superstar-let to join forces with her first ever opponent and another against a handicapped team of two. The odds were hardly fair to say the least, but Faith was not so keen on following the rules that were expected of her. When Faith thought of Smitten, she remembered when the brute was trying to crush the life out of her. Faith’s debut was suppose to serve as a message from Smitten when he tried to take Faith out of the picture before she even stepped in it. Not the fondest of memories to say the least. Ever since her victory, at least Smitten had stayed out of her business. His foiled attempt to send a message left him to fall back and lick his wounds. In return Faith had honoured the gesture by doing the same and staying away from the former World Champion. Strange that she was now placed into a position where she had to work with him, along side of a mysterious individual known only as the Virus. It didn’t take long to figure out why this was all going on, with her opponent being the man of the hour, Hannibal Frost, along side of FMW Veteran Celt. She was nothing more then a tool to be used by higher powers, a notion she held no liking to. Faith had no intention of working for anyone else but those she chose, but what did it really matter? She would worry about that match when the time came, today was not a day to think about her work or the wrestling business.

Today was more personal, a day of some significance to the McKenzie’s, more so to Billy McKenzie then Faith, but none the less it was an occasion she had always honoured since she was a little girl. Faith was famed for her fighting prowess over her fashion sense, but none the less she had made what effort she could tonight to at least look presentable, clad in a black vest with a fashionable woolly jacket over her shoulders. Dark pants and footwear completed the attire save for a light silver bracelet and necklace. Her jet black hair was much more straight then usual, having combed out the unkempt style she was known for, as the lightest of make up made up her complexion. For once she looked like a civilized young woman instead of a rabid creature, though the moment she would leave the well refined establishment currently graced, was the moment she would mess up her hair and wipe the make up from her face. She was only playing the civilized game because it was required to stay in the restaurant. The restaurant itself was top class, a place that would not normally welcome the kind of folk that Faith was categorized into, less they had a wealthy amount of funds. All the tables were coated in expensive white cloth, completely spotless, fresh and neatly folded. The cutlery was void of stains and brand new, several forks, knives and spoons assorted into various places in front of a plate. Champagne glasses littered every table with sharply folded expensive looking napkins resting within the reflective glasses. The whole restaurant itself seemed to don a golden glow, being mostly lit up by candle lights upon every table.

Unlike the usual solitary locations Faith liked to frequent, this restaurant was filled with people. A constant sound of speech, laughter and bickering rang within Faith’s ears, combined with the clap of steel against bone china plates as many dined on the meals before them. Men and women sat on surroundings tables in the vast hallway of the restaurant, all clad in sharp suits and elegant dresses that put Faith’s best efforts of presentation to shame. They were people that belonged to a different world, all talking of business, wealth and great empires they had established in their times. All fake smiles and forced pleasantries. Faith did not belong amongst them, that much was clear from the occasional stare she picked up on from other tables. She did not care, she had gained her wealth and passage to such an establishment by fighting for it. There was not one single suit or dress clad faceless individual she would say was better then her. When she was a little girl, she felt shame for being amongst those who considered themselves in the higher establishment, now she felt only pride, knowing her presence mocked all others. Her thoughts were interrupted after a gulp of whatever traditional beer it was they poured into her glass, catching a glimpse of another that didn’t exactly fit into the image of a restaurant. The uptight waiters moved to intercept a coated figure, walking towards the large man as if someone had stuck a fork up their arses. It was now that Faith had to make a choice whether she was staying or leaving, even if she hadn’t ordered any food yet. Against her better judgement, she remained seated, staring with faded emerald eyes as the coated figure was gestured by the waiters towards Faith direction. The large man looked like some form of shoplifter, or some lowly gumshoe, clad in the large grey coat as a relatively cheap suit was visible below it.


???: Ah’ didn’t think yer’ wud’ be ‘ere.

Faith:Neither did I.

Faith stared at the coated man as he stood at the opposite end of the table, taking off his leather gloves before he took off his coat next, placing it neatly on the chair opposite of Faith. He took a seat, still wearing the sunglasses he came in wearing, making some effort to stare down those that dared to look his way. He looked back to Faith, scratching his goatee before wiping his nose with his suit sleeve as he took the hardback booklet that made up the menu for the well established restaurant. Faith had to down her drink to stop herself from flipping the table, a notion that did not go down very well with those who sat on the table next to their own. The man noticed Faith’s reactions, letting out a sigh as she tried to signal for a waiter to replenish her glass with liquid bread. The man placed his menu down, looking to gain Faith’s attention.

Billy: Thanks for comin’ here. Ah’ know how hard it must have been with all that we’ve been through, but ya’ know what this day means to me. Ah’m… Ah’m glad yer’ here.

Billy McKenzie spoke, finally taking his glasses off, placing them neatly within the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Faith could see that he looked tired, worn down with bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. He looked troubled to say the least, a look Faith had not even glimpsed in many many years. He could barely make eye contact with his own daughter, choosing to look at the menu or at other people. Every time he glimpsed at Faith he was quick to look away. This had been the first time in quite a while that the two had sat together, Faith simply staring at her own father, more then a mere hint of malice present within her stare. She wondered what could possibly cause such a look of unrest in the man that was the TyranT, World Champion of the FMW. He had been riding a high horse since he took the prize that was the World Belt, adding on defences against Romeo and more recently impressively defending against Skyler Striker and John Doc Derrick. Hannibal Frost certainly wasn’t what caused him anxiety, it was something else. It might have just been this special day, or more likely it was the fact that the mute girl had turned up when he had not been expecting her. It was possible that TyranT was actually beginning to slowly crack with the realization of what he had done to his daughter. Whatever it was, she felt she should have been glad to see him look so troubled, but seeing her father in trouble was something she could never get used too, even after all he had done. Faith realized it had been that way ever since this day so many years ago…

Faith:You haven’t changed at all have you?

--------------------------

Faith:Why does he look so nervous?

Faith couldn’t help but silently say to herself, a look of concern strewn upon her face as she looked past an unkempt fringe upon her father. He spoke to the nurse within the grey corridor, his words inaudible as both were almost whispering. A sincere expression was worn by the nurse, who held documents close to her chest as she spoke to her father. Something was wrong, and Faith knew it had something to do with her grandpa. For so long she had waited to meet him, often hearing her father speak of him during their trip on the road. Faith was seven years old, clad in a white and pink dress that went down to her knees as jeans coated her legs with sneakers over her feet. Billy had done all he could to make her look presentable for her first meeting with grandpa, though the moment he tried to straighten her hair completely, Faith would always shake her head as rapidly as possible to put sections out of place again. Luckily Billy had given up before she had, letting her get her way. Faith was not shocked when her father took her to the hospital to see him. Apparently grandpa had often been visiting the hospital, her father telling her that he was prone to getting bumps and bruises.

The two were in the waiting area when a nurse approached her father, taking him to one side before they could go to grandpa’s room. Whilst the two spoke, Faith tried to imagine what he was like. Her father said he swore a lot, and was easy to anger, but he was a good man. Faith always wondered why they hadn’t seen him sooner, she only knew her father out of her family. Though Billy had spoke of brothers, a mother and his father, she had yet to see any of them. The sound of heavy footsteps took her from looking at her sneakers to glimpse up as her father approached her. He was powerfully built man, tall and broad in fame. His hair was a dyed blonde and seemed complimented by the sunglasses that were all the range at the moment. Normally he managed a smile when Faith looked his way, but today it seemed forced, like there was something amiss as he offered his hand for Faith to take. She glimpsed at the nurse who walked the other way, and then looked to her father who helped pull her up to her feet.

Billy: C’mon, lets go show ya’ to Grandpa, he’s been dyin’ to meet ya’!

Billy spoke as he took Faith’s hand, walking down the bland corridor. All was unusually quiet, all the doors being closed to cut off view of the rooms that branched from the path they walked. The only sound was their footsteps, the heavy boots of Billy McKenzie and the more rapid light taps of Faith McKenzie as the two walked side by side. Eventually they came to a door when Billy stopped, tapping hard against the wooden surface before turning the door handle. The door slowly creaked open as Billy opened it, seeming to regain his composure having been woeful upon approach to now being solace. He managed a smile as he walked in, as Faith found a great loss of courage, deciding to hide behind her fathers legs as they entered. Through all her planning and preparation, shyness would be her downfall as she hugged her father from behind, entering the room.

Billy: Hey Pa’… look whose come to see ya’!

Pa: Ya’ fuckin’ with me! Heh heh, outta’ all mah’ children an’ only the bastard comes to see me.

Billy: C’mon now Pa’! Ah’ brought the lil’ one! Don’t swear so fuckin’ much! Ah’ know yer’ wanted to see her all this time. Hey Faith, wave hello to ya’ grandpa.

Faith tried to hide more, feeling her father trying to shift her into view. It was only after a couple of seconds that she peeked around from behind her fathers legs, looking upon the man that was her father’s father. In story books, grandpa’s were always jolly old men, big and rounded in stature, bearded and friendly. Grandpa McKenzie was anything but that. Never had Faith witnessed a more imposing individual. His eyes were a faded emerald like her own, a large vicious scar ran deep down his left eye from his temple down to the bottom of his left cheek. He had a full head of hair, though it had long turned grey. Though his flesh was wrinkled and worn like old leather, the man that rested in the bed still held an intimidating air about him. He stroked his thin beard as he glared at Faith who stared dumbfounded at the sight of her grandpa. A warhorse of him own time as he shot back at her a look of disgust once she dared to step out from behind her father.

Pa: She’s a Jap! Boy! What did Ah’ tell you ‘bout those damn Japs?! Ah’ fought in a god awful war to keep them outta’ the country! No son of mine shud’ be beddin’ no god damn filthy bastard Japs!

Billy: Damn it Pa! Ah’ knew you’d start this! Ya’ wonder why Ah’ wouldn’t come to visit ya’ no more! Yeah! Her damn mother was Japanese! What happened… happened! Damn it dad, she be mah‘ daughter! Yer’ grandchild!

Pa: A Jap’s a Jap boy! Ya’ know how many Jap’s Ah’ killed with mah’ bare god damn hands durin‘ the war?! Damn Asians are everywhere! Ah’ told everyone in the Pacific the fuckin’ Asians wud’ take over the world an’ they all laughed at me! Ah’ told ‘em we need to drop more bombs on ’em! Ah’ spent mah’ whole god damn life fightin’ these fuckers from Asia! World War II boy, that was only the beginnin‘ of mah’ days in the army ! Then Ah’ had to face the damn Koreans to make sure they didn’t push the other Korean’s into mah’ country, we shudda‘ let em kill each other, but they had to fight ‘cause Ah‘ didn‘t want no Koreans evacuated to the states! An’ let not get me started on mah’ time in Vietnam Boy!

Billy: Gods sake Pa! Ah’ didn’t come here to hear ya’ stupid war stories!

Faith looked upon her grandfather, quickly hiding back behind her father as she silently gasped. The old man was terrifying her, hearing him shout out. She thought he would be a nice man, that he would love her as much as her father did. She hugged her father’s side tightly, burying her face against him to hide herself from view of those emerald eyes. She wanted to disappear and get away from him, she heard her father and grandfather shout at each other more, as she covered her ears, tempted to run away. Through all the madness however, she began to hear the old man chuckling away. She dared to peek out once more, a look of worry on her face as she caught a glimpse of the old man.

Pa: Ah’m just shittin’ ya’! C’mon over here lil’ one. Let me get a good look at ya’. Ah’ve been waitin’ to meet ya’ for a long time. Faith isn’t it?

The old man seemed to take a completely different form, no longer were his eyes so cold and dangerous, no longer was his face so wrinkled and scrunched up with frowns and malice. He almost looked a few years younger as he sat up a little more, slowly beginning to cough with hoarseness as he adjusted himself. Faith looked to her father, his face bright red with anger over the rising tension their argument had gathered. It seemed only to be a jest from her grandfather, but the notion had only seemed to stress her father more. Reluctantly he gestured for Faith to go towards him, her approach more then cautious as she felt nervous coming closer to him.

Pa: Heh, Ah’ don’t bite… well, least Ah’ don’t no more anyhow. Come sit ya’self here.

Faith sat herself on the chair next to his bed, sitting nervously as the old man peered close to get a good look upon her.

Pa: Boy! How did sumthin’ as ugly as you manage to create sumthin’ so pretty?

Faith couldn’t hide the small smile as she turned away. It caused grandpa to laugh before he began coughing again, making sure to turn away from Faith before he did so. He manage to spit out some phlegm to the side, before looking to Faith again.

Billy: Ah’ thought…

Pa: Ah’ know what ya’ thought son. Ah’ know Ah’ can be a mean ol’ bastard at times, an’ Ah’ know Ah’ say a lot of things that Ah’ shouldn’t, but ya’ did good this time. Ya’ got ya’self a pretty lil’ kid, an’ ya’ gave yer’ old man a pretty lil’ granddaughter. Ah’m glad Ah’ got to see her before the end, Ah’ve been holdin’ on all this time just to finally see her.

Billy: Stop thinkin’ like that Pa. What’s this? Ninth time in five years ya’ been in the hospital?! Ah’ tell yer’ now yer’ll be back out in a week just like last time.

Faith felt her grandpa place his hand against her head to ruffle her hair up, she shook her head away in protest after a moment, causing the old man to chuckle again to himself.

Pa: Ah’ told yer’ once they put me in here again… Ah’ wouldn’t be gettin’ out this time. Ah’ damn well told ya’ though that it wouldn’t be the smokes that ended me.

Faith looked to her father, uncertain what was going on, and what her grandfather meant. That was until she saw the look on Billy McKenzie’s face. She watched his expression shift as he struggled to keep his composure over the worlds of her grandpa. He did so, but the motions on his face gave everything away. Even Faith knew what was happening now as she turned to look at her grandpa who only smiled a gentle warming smile. She could see now how Billy could suddenly change into the TyranT when he wanted. She just saw it in her grandpa, when he shifted from a terrifying old man, to the man he was now. It was quite fascinating Faith couldn’t help but think as she looked upon her grandpa, running a hand down the scar on his face.

Pa: Heh! It’s a shame the girl can’t talk. Bet she wudda’ had a ton of questions, just kinda’ wished Ah’ had the time to answer them all. Ah’ think ya’ will do well though Faith, least Ah’ know ya’ ain’t gonna’ have a potty mouth like yer’ old man there.

Billy: Yer’ will when ya’ out ya old miserable bastard! Ya’ can even tell her ya’ stupid war stories, god help us all yer’ve been in enough of ‘em!

Pa: Son, do the ol’ man a favour. Go get me a pack of smokes from the store just outside the hospital. I’d start a whole new world war just for a smoke at the moment.

Billy: Sure thing. C’mon Faith.

Pa: She can stay here if she likes. Only take ya’ a few minutes won’t it?

Billy: Alright Pa. Ah’ll be right back.

Pa: Ya’ stay safe son.

Billy shook his head, walking out of the room to go and buy some cigarettes for grandpa McKenzie. The moment he left, Faith watched her grandpa slump back in the bed. He held his forehead, looking in clear discomfort all at once, all his strength nothing more then another act as he suddenly looked his age. His body began to shake a little as he groaned a little, reaching under the covers to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He managed a faint smile as he looked to Faith who could only frown in confusion, wondering why he sent her father away for smokes that he already had. With shaking hands he carefully opened the pack and plucked out the last cigarette that was within the cardboard container, bringing it up to his lips.

Pa: He’s a good man, always has been. Outta’ all mah’ children, he was the one who always failed, who always came up just a lil’ too short. Never stopped the dumb bastard from tryin’ his hardest though, he just never stopped, never quit. Ah’ was hard on him at times… but Ah’ was always so fuckin’ proud.

Faith looked concerned, sitting up as she was about to leave, thinking that her grandfather might need help. As she sat up, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, gesturing her to sit down again.

Pa: It’s alright Faith. Just… it’s just mah’ time, that’s all.

Faith didn’t know what to do as she looked upon her grandpa, a look of sorrow upon her face as she placed her hand on her grandpa’s. She felt his hand shaking in his own, not through fear though, that much she could see in his eyes as he kept that warming smile on his face. He gently took his hand away from Faith’s to reach back under the covers of his bed, pulling out a golden lighter.

Pa: Ah’ wish we could have talked more Faith, but it was enough for this old man just to see yer’. Mah’ son promised me that he was gonna’ one day be a champion when he started this fightin’ thing he does. The boy doesn’t realize… in mah’ eyes, he was already a champion the day he brought you into the world, just like Ah’ was when Ah’ brought him.

With a flick of steel he opened the golden lighter up, bringing life to a small flame with shaking hands, hovering it by the tip of the cigarette between his lips until the edge caught on to the dancing flame. A slap of steel soon extinguished the flickering flame once the cigarette tip began to burn, as a cloud of smoke escaped from grandpa’s lips.

Pa: Can ya’ do sumthin‘ for me Faith? Ya’ pa’s a smart fella’, but at the same time he’s also pretty dumb. Ah’ ain’t gonna’ be there no more to watch him, an’ he ain’t known anyone in his life but me he had much care for ‘til you came along. Can yer’ look after him for me?

Faith stared at her grandpa, looking long and hard into eyes that were so much like her own, sensing so many stories, so many tragedies and so many glorious moments within them. She looked upon the man that made her father what he is today, seeing all the same strengths, all the same weaknesses. Faith was young, it was hard to fully comprehend what was asked of her, but she nodded all the same, managing a weak smile. The golden lighter was placed firmly within her hands as her grandpa then used his own to close Faith’s around it. He took the cigarette out of his mouth to give her a gentle, almost frail kiss on the forehead, before slumping back into place, once more sliding the smoke back to his lips as he closed his eyes briefly, enduring what was coming.

Pa: Give that to your dad Faith. Go give it to him now.

Faith was reluctant to move as she looked upon the lighter and then her grandpa. He coughed heavily for a moment, before taking a long drag of his cigarette, seeming to calm down a little as he looked to Faith and smiled.

Pa: Go on… quickly now.

Faith nodded, hopping off her chair as she rushed towards the door. She turned to glance back at her grandpa, managing a smile. She waved at him, watching him smoke his cigarette as he smiled back, giving a wave in return. Faith left the room, walking into the corridor as the door closed behind her. She turned to see her father at the far end, walking back up with a newspaper under one arm and a pack of smokes in the other hand. Faith rushed towards him, nearly losing her footing in her haste at her grandpa’s command. Billy managed a half arsed smile when he saw his daughter rushing towards him.

Billy: Hey lil’ one. Ah’ bet gramps ain’t quite what yer’ were expectin’ yeah?

Billy crouched down to get eye level with Faith as she held her hands out in front of her.

Billy: What yer’ got there?

Billy asked, his smile dropping the moment he realized what Faith was holding. He saw the golden lighter resting between her palms, his face becoming pale as he took it with his own.

Billy: Oh no…

Faith silently gasped at Billy quickly rushed forwards, running with speed Faith had only seen when he fought in the ring. He dashed straight at the door to her grandpa’s room, slamming through it with a loud thump. Faith went as fast as her legs could carry, wondering why there was so much haste in her fathers movements, questioning why he would barge into the room in such a manner. Being no were near as tall, it took her longer to reach the room, walking in with the door practically off its hinges. She simply stood there in the door frame, a look of wonder falling upon her face, soon followed by one of sorrow as she witnessed a sight she would never forgot. Her grandpa lay in bed, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed. The cigarette he had lit lay smoking away on the ground by her father, who sat on his knees at grandpa’s bedside, his head buried against his fathers chest as the man that would one day become the World Champion sobbed away.

[color=white]Faith’s head drooped down, closing her eyes as she knew her grandpa had passed on. He wanted neither his son of grandchild to witness his passing, and held on just long enough to see them one final time. Faith took one more look upon the man that rest at peace, before approaching her father. As always, so young and naïve to the world, Faith was unsure what to do. It felt right to place her hand on her fathers shoulder. The moment she did, she felt Billy McKenzie hold her close.

Billy: What did he say?…

Billy spoke, his voice broken, his eyes red with tears.

Billy: What did he say?…

Billy asked again, desperation in the tone of his voice. Faith had no answer as she just looked at her father, all she could do was hug him back, having nothing else to give. It was the only time, and still remains so, that she would ever see her father cry.

-------------------------------

Faith:He said that he loved you.

------------------------------

Hardly a word had been exchanged between Billy and Faith McKenzie as they just about finished their meals. It was no surprise from Faith who couldn’t speak, but unlike her father, whose persona of the TyranT was well known for being loud mouthed, he was very quiet, even when eating. The two had endured each others company in the restaurant, almost making a truce for the anniversary of Grandpa McKenzie’s death. For all the anger that Faith had within her when she first set his eyes upon her father entering the restaurant, spending time with him like this put her at some ease. She remembered all too well just how much she missed being with her father again, yet at the same time she found it so difficult to forgive him.

Billy: This restaurant is so full of shit. Waited nearly a whole hour, an’ all they give us is a giant plate with a small pile of crap in the centre. It’s enough to make the ol’ man rise from the grave if he knew ‘bout this.

TyranT spoke out, dropping his knife and fork on the table, having already mixed up a few times what knife and fork he was suppose to use for each serving. Faith couldn’t resist a smile at the comment, she had been thinking the same thing as she played around with what remained of her food. Some kind of posh dish with a foreign name. The whole menu had been a lottery as far as Faith had been concerned. She looked up at her father who leaned back in his chair, looking around with an impatient expression before he looked to Faith.

Billy: Ah’m feelin’ a McDonalds, what ‘bout you? Got enough room for it?

Faith looked down on her plate, tilting her head as she frowned. She could have sworn there was an eye in her meal looking right back at her. Junk food seemed like a better option at this moment. Reluctantly, she nodded. Both McKenzie’s standing up from their seats as Billy in particular made no effort to silence his movements. Billy McKenzie seemed to move unusually fast towards the exit, as Faith followed with a frown, noticing a few of the staff glancing their way. All at once, she realized the bastard hadn’t paid, and soon enough she was rushing along behind her father to leave the premise before the staff took action against them.

Once outside, there was a sense of awkwardness between TyranT and Faith, one that had been created by the world championship. The two had come together for something else though today, for family. As both father and daughter made their way out of the area towards the more human part of civilization to find slightly less human food, Faith knew this day would eventually come to an end. She knew the void that had been created between TyranT and Faith would return by tomorrow, and the two would not even look eye to eye with each other, becoming enemies instead of the family they should be and always had been before this void came into their lives. Faith would return to Doc and Abel, TyranT would return to his World Championship belt.

Right now at this very moment, it didn’t matter to Faith, Business was set aside this day every year. TyranT did not have to worry about Hannibal Frost coming for his title, Faith didn’t have to worry about teaming up with her enemies in the next coming show. This day was for one person only, and so Billy and Faith McKenzie stayed together for that day despite all their troubles, it is what her Grandpa would have wanted. In a sense, it was what Faith wanted too.


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Abel Steele
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Abel Steele


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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 2:00 am

[color=firebrick]
-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey


Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)


ALSO, the Sons of Attrition speak out, Dunnwood's condition is updated, and Mt. V is finalized!


PROMO ONLY until Monday, January 10 11:59 PM EST. VOTING AND PROMO (with Penalty) until Wednesday, January 12 11:59 PM EST.


* Only the team of Axel van Osbourne and Trey Spruance have to win a contract in their respective matches. Reynolds and Bonesnapper will still be fighting for one contract.


Last edited by Abel Steele on Wed Jan 12, 2011 8:43 pm; edited 2 times in total
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The Celt

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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 6:09 am

Note: This isn't the 100% finished piece, but it's fairly close. We'll call it the 92% finished piece for now. I'm going to edit it again in a few hours time.








Now

There it stood: the central hub of the new group, the so-called “Clubhouse”. It seemed well lit, cosy and warm, even from afar. To any passerby it must look very inviting and welcoming. Through the windows an onlooker would be able to see inside to its bright colours that made it pleasing to the eye as well giving the illusion of having more space than it actually did. Yes, all the modern tips had been followed in its creation, the tricks that all god decorators recommend and practice used.

Welcoming indeed.

Not to Celt

He sat across the street on a windowsill, eyeballing the structure. Sure, it looked good...that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the very concept: A clubhouse.


What is clubhouse?

Clubhouse: Any building used by a club for meetings or social activities

Wrong. That’s the traditional sense; we’re talking about in the FMW sense.


Clubhouse: Where HavOc met and discussed how to damage all they ever encountered.

“This is a legacy” thinks Celt, “this is them living on in a way”. Yes, HavOc were gone, and no, of course they didn’t control the sheer concept of a clubhouse. In fact on its own there’s nothing wrong with a clubhouse...
But there is something wrong about Hannibal Frost and the Celt sitting together in a clubhouse, something very wrong, or if not “wrong”, exceptionally disturbing at least. “History is over, it can never be experienced the same way twice” they say. Which is true, since your knowledge of what has already happen allows you to predict future events, but damnit if it didn’t feel like a few years ago. It was like their presence hung over his head like a weight all over again.


“Get over HavOc Celt; they’re in the past and we’re bored of the past”
- Everyone

It’s easy to stand around and mouth off about things you never experienced, even easier if they never hurt you.

To forget the past is ignorant, and ignorant people don’t give good advice now do they?

“Am I being manipulated?” pondered Celt. Was that paranoid to think? Leon Caprice’s track record was impeccable, the man had done nothing but hold himself to the highest standard since he’d joined FMW.
But so had Hannibal Frost when he joined HavOc, as had Jack Eastwood. Perhaps they’d never been
“Aw shucks goggly goshers”, but before HavOc they’d never put their feet out of line. They were brought in softly and charmed...and then corrupted. In fact none of the HavOc members seemed like brooding monsters until it was too late, with the sole exception of Syanide Lincoln.

“Imagine becoming everything you’ve always hated” Celt asked of himself. Was that silly? Was he pushing this out to far? His mind searched for a definitive answer but when you work in this industry for a while you quickly learn you’ll never get one.

In recent times he was prone to thinking for hours on end, teasing out question bit by bit at a time...insomnia will do that to a man’s mind.


Before

“They weren’t me”

Morrígan had never looked more awkward and unsure then she did now. She appeared now to look like the proverbial cat with her tail between legs. Her characteristic confidence had been sapped from her under Celt’s harsh glaring eyes. He stood as if carved from stone, his arms folded and his face hinting at nothing but perhaps aggression.


“Yeah, we’ll I fucking figured that out that much on my own thanks, but they sure as hell looked like you”

“There’s a good reason for that”

“There damn well better be”

“...”

Morrígan had never been this side of the fence before, and she looked totally at a lost for how to act. Her body language signalled fear. Not fear of violence or fear of danger, not that type of fear, but fear of the unknown, fear of what was going to happen between them.


“Well?”

Morrígan brushes the hair back from her face, her hand betrays a slight tremble.

“One was the Badb, the other the Macha.”

“...”

“They’re my sisters.”

She struggles to maintain eye contact. You would too, such is the unforgiving stare of the man in front of her.

“They were testing you...”

It was like torture just to say that, telling Celt that yet again his life had been put to trial for the satisfaction of others.

Celt can feel himself breathing heavily now. His brow furls while his mouth looks like he’s suddenly tasted something sour. Then with suddenly roar of anger he slams his hand down on the kitchen counter, the sound of the thud feeling almost like an explosion, the swift expression of Celt’s frustration.

Slowly Celt draws his cold gaze back to Morrígan.


“So it’s your families’ fault?” says the Celt, the emphasis most definitely on the word your.

“Do you know sick I am with tests Morrígan?” Celt says bitterly.

“If I’d known I swear, I would have stopped them, but I had to deal with my father” Morrígan let’s out quickly, a desperate plea of innocent to a judge who has likely already cast his sentence.
Celt’s head whips violently side to side, his eyes darting in his head as he searches for his jacket.



“Where are you going?” said Morrígan in a shaky voice that sounds like the real question is “Will I see you again?”

Morrígan reaches out her hands distraughtly, attempting to draw Celt in her arms but he rejects them with a bold shrug.

“The boot’s on the other foot now Morrígan, you can do the damn chasing now” Celt says over his shoulder as he powers towards the door.

He doesn’t wait for a response and wouldn’t care what it was even if he did hear it.



Now

Celt sat with his back against the wall, his eyes still fixated on the clubhouse. It was getting dark and cold now and the Celt shivered as the breeze bite at his face. He watched as the warmth of his breath escaped his body and escaped from him into the air.

He’d been out here for hours now, almost in meditative thought.


“The thing about cancer, of course, is that if you fail to kill off even a slight fragment of it, it can return stronger than ever” smiled Syanide. The walking hate crime had seemed to appear from nowhere. He stands over Celt with a look of wicked delight on his face.

Celt’s heart skipped a beat, but he hides it well. Reluctantly he slowly turns his head towards the looming spectre of his past. Daniel Lincoln looked as fearsome as he ever did, cutting a dark figure with his black coat speckled with flakes of snow. He looked thinner, his face less full and his eyes somewhat bigger, but he still had all the key parts of his appearance; that same shaven head and that same straggly beard


“A few cells is all it takes, a cancer can reproduce effectively from simply that, and its pure white destruction can begin again, assaulting vital organs of the body that once gone will take down the whole organism” Syanide chirped away “A marvel of biology really”

“I assumed you were dead by this stage” said Celt vacantly. It was just the first thing that came to mind, considering Daniel Lincoln had been missing, presumed quite, quite dead for over year.

“And where would the fun in that be?”
scoffed Syanide uncharacteristically, seemingly without even thinking.


Celt didn’t move, although perhaps that wasn’t even his choice as his body felt numb all over. Everything felt heavy for some reason.

“You like to think you’re stronger for having survived HavOc don’t you? That it made you more formidable perhaps? You’re fucking wrong mutant. Just like the typical cancer survivor you’re in constant fear we’ll return, maybe even stronger than ever. That fear is our power over you. That fear is our immutable legacy on you, irreversible damage that can never be repaired. Because of what we did to you you’re less of a person you miserable little shit” said Syanide, speaking more callously now.

“Paranoia and insomnia, that’s all you gained from us, the traits that will bind you and hold you down the rest of your life. For as long as you can continue to hold on our marks on you will weight you down. Like a hand around your throat we’re strangling you, making it difficult just to breathe aren’t we? Our reign was short but our legacy is everlasting” smirks Syanide “And no-one will ever know that better than you, will they?”[/b][/color]

Celt couldn’t speak, as if something gripped at his vocal cords and constrained him. Regardless he didn’t have any words to counteract Syanide, everything else was escaping his brain but the ideas Syanide was inserting.

“Cancer: a blight that attacks a vital organ and just destroys, destroys, destroys. The only way to hold off death is to inject a poison into the body that will still ultimately kill you. It forever marks you as damaged goods. In so many ways it’s a flawless disease, just as I was. In so many ways it was amp I should...receive...cancer myself, especially that of the lungs. Symbolic even” Syanide continues on.

“I’m nearly proud of it” says Syanide, almost nostalgically.

Syanide points over to the Clubhouse.


“See that building over there, the one with the warm little centre...inside it lays a dormant cancer just waiting to be unleashed. You know what Frost is capable of; you know what we had him do. Do you think that kind of thing can simply be erased overnight? Of course not, it’s part of him. We forged him the fires of HavOc, a process that cannot be undone. Like a phoenix from the ashes Frost is destined to recreate HavOc, and on look” purrs Syanide “It seems like he’s already started”

“If you think Caprice is the kind of man to join HavOc or anything like it you remain still a damn fool Lincoln” says Celt, finally mustering the strength to speak.

“Oh no? Didn’t Frost seem so damn noble to the public just before he came into the fold? Was he not a crusader for “justice”? Don’t lie to yourself Leprecan’t, you know how the seeds of your defeat were sown. Hannibal Frost was already a success in FMW before we ever laid hands on him yet we made him one of own, a brother in HavOc” said Syanide, shooting Celt down

“You were always too obsessed with the concept of fear, you know that Lincoln, you and Dunn” [/i]says Celt, now with more self-assurance than before.[/i] “Especially towards the end...the death-mask was a sure sign that you were just trying entirely too hard”.

Syanide is unimpressed with this analysis. In fact, if he was the kind of person to roll his eyes he probably would have.

“You’re right to say I’m a survivor Lincoln, I am that. I know all about cancerous entities and their influence. But like I said, you’re too hung up on this fear factor” declares Celt.

“Is that right? Funny, because I know you don’t sleep for days Celt, your stomach turning and winching with concern over Corruption and all the things that plague it. How’s that for being hung up on fear?” says Syanide, his smile so reminiscent of a wolf.

“I don’t sleep for alot of reasons, the main one being concern. I guess I feel as long as I’m awake...I can still prevent problems. Sleeping is a like a vulnerability. When I sleep I can’t stand guard over Corruption, and experience has shown it’ll always need someone to watch over it” says Celt honestly.

“But yeah, me and this cancer...you think you’ve got me cinched up don’t ya Lincoln? Playing mind games designed to paralyze me through my own past, well I got news for you: It’s not going to happen.

You’re a lingering ghost Lincoln, trying to play on old fears. But I’m past you now.

You know people who deal with cancer are an interesting group. For all of them their disease is a horribly traumatic experience, and sure, for some people it’s too much, especially having to confront your own morality head on. But you know what? There’s alot of people who get cancer and fucking deal with it. They stare down the barrel of the gun and they’re not frightened by it. They know what they’re in for and they live amazing lives. There are people with cancer who extract every last drop from life and never let fear rule them.

You bastards almost ruined me. You all pushed me up against my boundaries and it fucking hurt. All of it; the paranoia, the anger, the stress and frustration. But the fact is I walked out the other side of it and ye didn’t. I’m the one still standing.

If I let you spectre hang over me the rest of my career, my life, you’ve won; you’ll get something you wanted from me. If I treat every man like my enemy then they will be my enemy, one way or another.”

“Ha! So then, you do trust Frost then, the seed of HavOc?” retorts Syanide

“Honestly? I don’t think I can trust anyone but myself anymore. It’s not the most optimistic approach in the world, but then again I don’t live a land of sunshine and lollipops. The bottom line is though I’m not going to stand around and live in fear of betrayal for the rest of my life. If it happens, it happens and I’ll deal with it accordingly” finishes Celt on a somewhat jaded note.

A pause in their dialogue simply hangs the air as Celt finishes. Celt hasn’t anything more to say nor does Syanide have a reply.


“Why are you even here?

Celt turns his head towards Syanide to receive his answer but all he gets is the image of Syanide walking away.

“Have fun waiting for the knife to be plunged into your back Leprecan’t”

As abruptly as Syanide had entered back into Celt’s world he makes his departure just as quickly. Celt watches as Syanide heads down the street, his heavy stomping causing freshly fallen snow to crunch under his feet.

“Yeah that’s right, fuck off to whatever graveyard ya spawned from ya asshole...”

Celt places his head back against the wall, his body sat on the pavement. His right slides down by his side and discovers a small pile of change: Someone at some point has mistaken Celt for the homeless.












Knock Knock

“You came...eventually” says Frost, opening the door.

A bleary eyed Celt, covered in snow flakes, stands in the doorway of the clubhouse and simply stares at Hannibal Frost.

“I ahh...I had to sleep on the decision” replies Celt

“Well, come on then and get out of that cold man” says Frost “Caprice is already inside”

As Celt steps in he can immediately feel the difference, the clubhouse is well heated indeed.

“Celt?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a bit of nosebleed thing going on there” says Frost, pointing to his own upper lip

Celt whips below his nostrils, find the blood is already long dry as he walks in to the main room of the clubhouse.

“Hey” says Leon, sat comfortably on plush sofa.

“Hey” says Celt followed by the traditional Irish nod of recognition before sitting down on an armchair in the corner. Celt takes out a pack of cigarettes from pocket.

“Umm, do you mind...” Leon trails off quickly, trying to sound diplomatic

Celt smiles

“I’m not afraid of cancer Leon, are you?”





Last edited by The Celt on Tue Jan 11, 2011 11:32 am; edited 1 time in total
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Tromboner Man
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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 6:32 am

Smitten: Simplicity is the key.

Jaro: Well DUH!! Smitten. It’s a simple act. You go out there and beat up two pains in my ass.

Smitten: No you’re missing the point.

Ja; Get out of my office Smitten. I’m not discussing this with you any further!!

***


What you are going to witness is several meetings that I held with a number of different individuals. Some were easy to meet with, while others almost seemed to go out of their way to make my business more difficult than it ever needed to be. This is not to try and give you a reason as to why I should lead myself, The Virus and Faith MacKenzie to victory at Corruption 12.3, rather, to give you an insight into the REAL dealings of Full Metal Wrestling.

Make of it what you will. Think of it what you want. End of the day, this match is a match for me. No consequences. No care. The opponents, I have no care who they are, even less for the fact that they are my past two opponents. The result. Don’t even think that I care about it, and I pity the being who believes that I do. To me, this is an outlet. An outlet to vent, and that is that. End of story.


***


Smitten: The FMW Champion himself, what do I owe the honor?

TyranT: Don’t play y’er sweet talk with me Smitten.

Smitten: There’s no sweet talk, Billy. It has been a while since you’ve stepped into my office. It’s been such a long time, that I figure you must believe it’s an honor for me to be in your presence.

TyranT: Ya know that ain’t true.

Smitten: Fine, state your business and get out.

TyranT: Hannibal Frost.

Smitten: What about him?

TyranT: You know what about him.

Smitten: Actually I don’t, can you be a bit more clear for me please? I’d like to understand what you’re getting at rather than playing guessing games.

TyranT: He’s the number one contender to mai FMW Championship.

Smitten: Yes, I’m familiar with that.

TyranT: Y’er obviously not. HE is THE number one contender to MAI FMW Championship. I heard what Jaro spoke to you about earlier. That ain’t gonna happen, Smitten.

Smitten: Are you talking about Jaro explicitly telling me to take out Hannibal Frost? I think his word over rules yours.

TyranT: Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ ‘bout Smitten. Frost will be the man facing me for the FMW Championship at Circus Maximus, and you ain’t gonna be changing that, ye hear?

Smitten: Billy...

TyranT: NO! No buts, ifs or maybes. You aint gonna be taking out Hannibal Frost, ye be leaving that ter me at Circus Maximus.

Smitten: Billy...

TyranT: I need to know if we’re on the same page on this one Smitten.

Smitten: I’d...

TyranT: Stop trying to make excuses and tell me, Yes, I will be leaving Frosty alone tonight.

Smitten: I...

TyranT: No. Yes don’t start with an “I”.

Smitten: SHUT UP!

TyranT: SMITTEN, ANSWER MY DEMAND!

Smitten: Demand nothing! My show, my office, my rules. I’m telling you to get the FUCK out of my office.

TyranT: You can’t swear at me!

Smitten: WE’RE NOT ON THE FUCKING AIR, I CAN DO WHAT THE FUCK I WANT!! YOU ARE GOING TO MARCH YOURSELF OUT OF MY OFFICE, AND STAY OUT OF HERE!! THERE IS MORE GOING ON THAT YOU CAN BLOODY WELL IMAGINE, AND I DON’T NEED ANOTHER PAIN IN MY FUCKING ASS TELLING ME HOW TO RUN MY OWN PRODUCT!!!

TyranT: YE BE LEAVIN’ ME NO CHOICE THEN!

Smitten: I know, I didn’t give you an option. OUT NOW!!!

TyranT: You think you’re so smart.

Smitten: I don’t need to think I’m so smart, I am smart. It’s something I’ve grown to accept and live with.

TyranT: You may try to harm Hannibal during the show. Maybe during your match. But I can put someone in here, or leave them outside your door, and they’ll never let you do any of it.

Smitten: Oh really? What can SHE do to prevent me, a 290 pound grown man, from getting to Frost?

TyranT: For a bright person, you’re really quite dumb. I think Faith will be more than a problem for you, if you do try any funny business. Goodbye, Smitten.

***


Jaro: SMITTEN!!!

Smitten: What now Jason? What could have POSSIBLY gone wrong in the last 5 minutes? I told you on the phone I was taking care of the problem in Dubai.

Jaro: I don’t care about what’s going on in Dubai Smitten. What ever is happening in Dubai is pointless to me.

Smitten: Ammunition’s in Dubai.

Jaro: And you’re going to be there to make sure nothing happens that shouldn’t happen on Ammunition. That’s why it’s pointless for me to even think about it. Come on Smitten, we’re on me.

Smitten: Fine. What on Earth has gone wrong?

Jaro: I had a call from a very interesting individual today. Aparantly I’m being sued by the FCC for glorifying murder as a way of getting ahead.

Smitten: CSI do it every week, and they get away with it.

Jaro: I know, but they wouldn’t listen to that logic. I need you to get on that phone and start sorting it out.

Smitten: You know, I am in active competition tonight. It’s not long before my match, and I haven’t even begun warming up yet.

Jaro: I’ll cut you a deal, you sort this out, and then work out how you’re getting to Hannibal Frost. Then you can start warming up, but only if you’ve made those contracts the newbies are signing when they win are air tight. I don’t want another legal team calling me up and going boo hoo over those situations I put in there.

Smitten: You’re obviously over tense about something. This is an easy case for me to deal with Jason. If the FCC had a problem with our programming, it’s not our responsibility to censor it on a live broadcast. It’s theirs.

Jaro: How sure are you of that Smitten?

Smitten: Well it all boils down to censoring, and being sued because they didn’t sensor our programming as it happened, even when there is a 5 second delay, is not our problem.

Jaro: That defence sounds very flimsy. I’m not going to risk it. I’m giving this case to my personal lawyer, you just sit there and pretend to be competent.

Smitten: But I’m your personal lawyer. You’ll just be giving it to me.

Jaro: Don’t you remember? You’re not anymore. As of about 5 minutes ago...

Smitten: Hold on a minute Jason... 5 minutes ago?

Jaro: Yes, I got off the phone with you, and had a phone call from the FCC legal team. Not only did I manage to weasel us out of the case, I decided that because I did such a good job, that I’m now my own lawyer.

Smitten: That’s got to be one of the most idiotic things you could have done Jason... do you know how vulnerable you’re leaving yourself?

Jaro: I just won a legal case Smitten, I prevented it from going to court. When was the last time you won a case? It’s been so long, I don’t remember.

Smitten: Keep thinking that Jason. You WISH you could know about the complexities that hit my desk. You really do. The problems I have to deal with on a regular basis because of you and your goon squad’s antics. The list is incredible. By firing me as your personal lawyer, you’re risking more and more of this heading towards your desk, because a lot of it jumps rope with the line between professional and business relations.

Jaro: Yeah yeah, what ever. Just do what I’m paying you to do, and leave what I’m good at to me. In fact, what I’m good at is better than what you’re good at, so why don’t I tell you how to do your job.

Smitten: You’re making a mistake Jason. Don’t come crying back to me when this all becomes too much for you.

Jaro: Know your place, Smitten, and do as your told. There won’t be any trouble if you do what you’re told.

Smitten: I understand that, but understand this. Get out of my office.

***

Smitten: Get out of my way please.

Faith: ...

Smitten: Look, this has nothing to do with Hannibal Frost being in there.

Faith: ...

Smitten: You’re going to have to trust me on that Faith. Get out of my way.

Faith: ...

Smitten: Faith, this is really almost an emergency. I need to go in there, and take care of my business, so I can get back to preparing for our business.

Faith: ...

Smitten: Are you deaf now too? Blind? Can you not see that this is a critical matter of importance?

Faith: ...

Smitten: I will pee on you Faith. Get out of the way, or get urinated on.

Faith: ...

Smitten: What are YOU looking at?

Frost: Nothing, Smitten. Nothing at all...

Smitten: Look, he’s out of there now, and I still need to go, can you please get out of the way?

Faith: ...

Smitten: Thank fuck for that.

Faith: ...

***

Celt: Why do I need to see you?

Smitten: Sit down, it’s only a formality.

Celt: I’d rather stand. Thank you.

Smitten: Fine, suit yourself. I need this to be quick anyway. You need to get back to warming up, I need to start warming up. Let’s just get on the same page for just a minute, and then we can argue, bicker, and kick each other’s asses later. Deal?

Celt: I’ll think about it.

Smitten: No time to think about that. I need your brain power for other things. I have here a contract for you Ultraviolent Championship match. Like every other championship match, you need to sign, blah blah blah, we’ve done this all before. Initial here, here and here. Sign here, date there, and we’re done.

Celt: Do I get to read it?

Smitten: Of course. Find the fine print, and enjoy it.

Celt: Enjoy it.

Smitten: I drew that contract up when I assumed I would be competing for the title. I would have edited it to tailor it to your circumstances and situation, but time has gotten the better of me lately, so I’ve had to pass it on to you.

Celt: So you’re saying you drew this up to give yourself an advantage?

Smitten: Advantage, not really. It’s hard to make a contract for a match which gives you an “advantage”. I’d like to think of this as having security.

Celt: I won’t sign it.

Smitten: Really?

Celt: Did I stutter?

Smitten: What day is it today Celt?

Celt: I believe it’s a Tuesday. Is that a trick question?

Smitten: No, no tricks. I just could have sworn that with everyone making moronic decisions today that it was “Forget to bring your brain to work” day.

Celt: Well forgive me for wanting my shot at the Ultraviolent Championship to be a fair and unbiased fight. In fact, now, I want to be there when my opponent signs his contract. I wanna make sure I’m not being screwed because someone else is getting your contract.

Smitten: Celt, that’s financially and logistically impossible.

Celt: But it’s my right as a competitor. It’s in MY employment contract. The one I signed in front of you. I’ll see you out there Smitten. As if I didn’t have enough motivation to beat you down tonight.

Smitten: Wait there. No, don’t... FOR FUCK SAKE!! I remember when there was respect for this position.

***

Smitten: What could possibly want?

Virus: I’d like to know what you’re still doing wearing a suit.

Smitten: I’ll be there soon. Just, I dunno. Do whatever you do Virus.

Virus: I am doing what I do. What are you doing?

Smitten: I’m trying to wade through the cest pool that is my job tonight. Ever since Jaro came to me with that stupid idea to murder Celeste, I’ve never been busier.

Virus: That’s great. Not my problem, so don’t unload your problems on me. My problem is, i got a guy, sitting behind a desk, in a suit, instead of preparing for a match where he’s my partner.

Smitten: That’s great. That’s not my problem.

Virus: It can be. And it will be.

Smitten: Don’t offload your problems onto me.

Virus: Just make sure you’re on the same page. Hannibal Frost needs to be taken out, and I know you want to get revenge on The Celt.

Smitten: Do I?

Virus: You do now.

Smitten: So I’ve got other people telling me what I want now?

Virus: If you value your health, that’s what you’ll be thinking for this match.

Smitten: Look, I don’t see the point in getting worked up over this. I lost to the Celt, big whoop. I hadn’t wrestled in close to 12 months. I turn around, and embarrass the number one contender in singles action. I proved that a man out of form can defeat Hannibal Frost, so TyranT will have no issues taking the match.

Virus: And yet, we still have people trying to cause a rebellion over Celeste’s passing. These are the people we need to squash. An up rising is not something we need in this state, and you should know and appreciate that more than most.

Smitten: I’m the commissioner of Full Metal Wrestling. I shouldn’t be fighting that battle in the ring.

Virus: You are. Deal with it.

***

Smitten: Hi baby doll.

Kelsey: Daddy! You called!

Smitten: I just needed to hear your voice. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

Kelsey: Why?

Smitten: I’ve had to make a couple of people very unhappy.

Kelsey: But I thought you liked making people unhappy at work. It made you feel good, because you were showing them the right way to go to improve themselves.

Smitten: And I do, I really do. In fact, it’s the best feeling in the world for me, being nasty to point someone in the right direction. But a couple of people I’ve made very unhappy, I don’t like to.

Kelsey: Who are they? Maybe they don’t understand where you’re coming from.

Smitten: Well, one of them is you, and the other one is me.

Kelsey: Oh...

Smitten: I know I said I’d come and visit you at Boarding School next weekend, and take you out, give you a special Daddy-Daughter lunch, but I need to go to Dubai now.

Kelsey: Well... that’s Ok. You’re a big important man, I understand.

Smitten: You’re a good girl sweet heart, but I made you a promise, and it’s not good enough that I broke it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, with everything in my heart, I’ll make it up to you.

Kelsey: You’ll make it up with a Pony?

Smitten: No.

Kelsey: Oh... I thought that would work.

Smitten: No, it didn’t. Nice try though.

Kelsey: Well, maybe you can make it up to yourself as well. I know you were looking forward to coming. Maybe go and take yourself to an expensive restaurant tonight after the show.

Smitten: I was looking forward to a lot of things Kelsey.

Kelsey: Just because you had to come out of your wrestling retirement early doesn’t mean you can’t look forward to Ultimatum 3.

Smitten: Ultimatum was supposed to be special.

Kelsey: And it still will be. Now, aren’t you supposed to be wrestling soon?

Smitten: How did you know?

Kelsey: Silly Daddy. We’re all watching your show! Teachers let us stay up and watch the show live! We just saw the Abandoned Championship match, and Morpheus just told us your match is next!

Smitten: It most certainly is.

Kelsey: Well... stop talking to me! Hurry up! You’re going to be up against The Celt and Hannibal Frost in a couple of minutes.

Smitten: Ok baby. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Kelsey: Bye Daddy. Good luck!

Smitten: Straight to bed after the match Kelsey! Good night Baby Doll.

TyranT: “Good night Baby Doll”... come on Smitten. Where’s your head at?

Virus: Obviously not here. He’s about to go out there, and he’s still not dressed to compete.

Smitten: Take a page out of Faith’s book and shut up, the pair of you. So I’m coming in a little rushed tonight. I been busy protecting your asses. You can thank me for that later, and lay off. I’ll wrestle in my suit pants.

Virus: Because they’re obviously the best thing to wear for a wrestling match.

Smitten: You let me worry about how I’m going to compete in suit pants, you TyranT and Faith worry about winning, if it means that much to you.

Faith: ...

Virus: I think you’d be better served on the outside Smitten...

Smitten: No. I’m wrestling, not playing valet.

TyranT: Listen to Virus Smitten. Yeh not in the right mindset to compete.

Smitten: Are any of you the FMW Commissioner? No? Then listen to me when I say “My Ring, MY Rules”. And my rules state that I’ll be the in there, wrestling. And if any of you have any issues with that, we can discuss it at a later date. Right now, we all have bigger things to think about.

We all do
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Jeff
FMW Corruption Ultraviolent Champion
FMW Corruption Ultraviolent Champion
Jeff


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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 8:31 am

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)

Just based on the four promos available, gotta give it to Celtibal. Just loved what they brought. Not to say CGS and TyranT/Faith didn't do well, as I enjoyed all the promos. But the edge for me goes to Frost and Celt.

Votes to be edited if/when other people promo.


Last edited by Jeff Poliwhitt on Wed Jan 12, 2011 5:42 pm; edited 1 time in total
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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 12:48 pm

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Capricevs. Seth Omega (c)

This one is sad really...But Leon did rock out with his cock out on this one

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)



Last edited by Axel Van Osbourne on Wed Jan 12, 2011 7:23 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Storm183




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeTue Jan 11, 2011 5:24 pm

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Singles Match
Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice

Main Event Handicap Match
Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)


Last edited by Storm183 on Wed Jan 12, 2011 6:33 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 5:40 am

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice

Main Event Handicap Match
Christian G. Smitten
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Hannibal Frost

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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 7:04 am

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD Empty
PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 7:09 am

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)

(Votes subject to change)


Last edited by TyranT on Wed Jan 12, 2011 11:07 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 10:42 am

There comes a time when we finally have to play our cards and let our years of preparation be seen. A time when we believe that our preparation is worth the reward, that no matter what our opposition has, what we’ve done is enough to triumph over their efforts, that on that day, we were driven to succeed more than them.

Though everyone is driven by something.
Most dictionaries define the verb drive as “to guide, to control, or to direct.” Whether you are driving a car, a nail, or a golf ball, you are guiding, controlling and directing it at that moment.

So what is the driving force in your life?

A seemingly simple question, but oh how it fools us.

Right now you many be driven by a problem, a pressure, or a deadline. You may be driven by a painful memory, a haunting fear, or an unconscious belief. There are hundreds of circumstances, values, and emotions that can drive your life. But through them all 5 appear above all as the most common sources:
To be driven by Guilt
To be driven by Resentment & Anger
To be driven by Fear
To be driven by Materialism
To be driven by the need for Approval


Each holds a key to the individual’s circumstances. Find your drive and you’ll find your soul, find your soul and you will truly grasp it all.

But the basic question is, what drives you?


***Yo-He-Va-He***


To be driven by Guilt

” Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings”
Nicholas Rowe


The rain outside the arena where Ammunition 12.2 was being held, was falling harder the more the moon rose. Peaking in the sky the wind began to fall still. The moonlight was truly beginning to spread. It was scattering amongst every man, woman and child this night. It’s light had enveloped the back of an unknown figure as he began walking gracefully down the main hallway of the backstage area. The rain above and the rustling wind were drowned out by the echoing thuds of this man’s feet hitting the concrete floor during each step. In perfect, unfaltering rhythm the steps made their way to the front of the room with the label ‘Medical Room’ plastered on the wooden door. The warm hands of purity envelope the cold metal of the door knob slinging the door open allowing the noise and artificial light of the crowded hallway to seep in. The figure with little hesitation stepped into the room, with a stance and look of determination that drew the attention of those in the room. The two medical officers and one hurting Skyler Striker. The medical officers were attending to the injuries of the ambushed Striker as Leon Caprice, filled with an unexpected joy and contentment entered into the room.

Skyler was resting on the end of a bed with one of the officers finishing off the bandages around his waist, until Skyler looked up to greet the face of his former partner. The look on Skyler’s face expressed the emotions of pain, but he didn’t seem responsive to the hits he suffered tonight, something else was hurting him. A sharp, gritty glare was all Skyler showed as he tensed his fists and slowly lifted himself off the bed, grating his teeth together in pain as his feet eventually touched the cold concrete floor.


Skyler: What the hell do you want?

Silence, the only acceptance that Striker indeed spoke was the bemused yet curious expression from Leon. However with his head slightly bowed, through the shadow descended from his nose, a smirk could be seen. With the extending silence reaching its end, Leon finally spoke out.

Leon: Just wanted to see that you survived that attack.

Skyler let out a slight chuckle as he responded amply.

Skyler: Who are you, my mother!

And to follow Leon chuckled at Skyler’s response, a reply Skyler fueled to his anger, as he sought to dictate the conversation.

Leon: Hardly, but you should have known better than to steal a champion’s belt.

Skyler: Well thank God I don’t have to worry about you now, do I… Still belt-less since I left you.

As Skyler tried to cockily impose himself within the conversation, he began to deepen in his bottled anger, as Leon seemed unphased by Skyler’s arrogant comments.

Leon: Well for now that is, could be a different story next week.

As soon as those words fell off of Leon’s tongue, Skyler’s perplexion changed from one of arrogance and bottled anger to complete sarcasm and insensible expressions. A change that Leon quickly noted.

Skyler: Oh congratulations, did you finally track down that noobish rookie Bolton or TJ Tilli. I’m sure this chance is well deserved.

Leon: I’m taking on Seth for the Abandoned Title. Smitten just finalized it.

As quick as Skyler tried to break Leon’s positivity, Leon reinforced himself with a firm remark.

Skyler: …Still trying to get that belt ey, didn’t learn your lesson.

Leon: More like didn’t realize how much easier it would be for you right now if I had taken it.

The conversation began to heat up as Leon’s comments rested solely on Skyler’s mind.

Skyler: Your mind numbing care for me is amazing, thank you once again for telling me that you could of saved me. Just tell yourself that I am beyond you. In both talent and direction.

Leon: So if you are so talented and beyond me, how did you manage to get blind-sighted by the champ.

A sense of boredom entered Skyler’s expression as he continued to respond.

Skyler: Maybe because I don’t care about that belt any more, maybe because I don’t care who comes after me or what they say to me.

Leon: What are you trying to say Sky?

Skyler: I’m sayin that I don’t care anymore, so save your words for someone who wants to be cared for. I’m outta here.

The tone Skyler used was one to hold emphasis on his final words, a point which truly left Leon with only one question to ask.

Leon: You are leaving FMW?

And as quickly as he asked, he received his answer.

Skyler: Yes! I can’t stand this bullshit anymore. And don’t give me your pity or remorse, just shove it!

With little hesitation Skyler rose from the medical bed and left his former student and tag partner alone with the remaining medical staff. With Skyler turning the corner of the doorway into the crowded hallways of the backstage arena, Leon couldn’t help but feel lethargic as to the emotional weight of what just occurred.

Skyler was truly beyond saving, and now he was out of reach.


Guilt: Although seen as a driven force, it is rarely acted upon in events of its unveiling.


***Yo-He-Va-He***


To be driven by Resentment & Anger

“Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.”
John Dryden


It had been awhile since tranquility had rested into Leon’s mind. It had been even longer since his heart had pumped anything but anger & disappointment. But now, something was changing. His mind had rebooted, there was no question of that. The cloud of hatred that once pleased him, could now no longer been able to stimulate his broken mind. Like an addiction he sunk lower and lower into degeneracy, wanting more and more affliction to be felt. Needing more pain, more events to take place to even begin to appease himself.

Yet he could feel a small corner of his mind struggling. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him was rejecting the poison he was filling his body with. Some part of him hated it. It hated it with the same passion, the exact hatred that Leon convinced himself never to show. And Leon loved that small corner of his mind for it. No matter what good it sought to do, it carried with it the passion to keep fighting. That for every day that Leon’s mind remained entangled in despair, it would continue to try and bring a sense of remembrance to the surface, as it wanted to be free once again.

They say home is where your heart lies and for the longest time Leon agreed with that saying. But recently things had changed. His heart was perturbed, and home had been cloaked in the darkness of uncertainty for far too long. The characters that normally inhabited Leon’s warming household had negated its purpose, it was slowly becoming obsolete. Yet in turn Leon was finally renewing his vigor. Resting to bed the set back from Skyler’s continual interference, he began to change his game, increasing his faith in his own abilities, becoming more spontaneous and unpredictable. He had also recently agreed to join the Sons of Attrition, a stable of men who sought the same purposes of FMW, well what seemed the same. But this varied Leon’s true belief of his home, for where did his heart lay now. He was a father, a husband and now a member of the SoA. But where would he divert his attention to, would he forgo time with his immediate family to invest time into the SoA beliefs & strength. And in that train of thought, Leon was lost to the clouds in his mind. And this truly was a subtle hint that the house in which his heart lies had now changed, he was changing.

Through the abasement of his recent family history and the poison that Skyler surrounded Leon with, a new Leon emerged. More consolidated, more determined in his faith, a Leon more passive and methodical by his growing nature. It was this renewed Leon that now stood in front of a very familiar psychiatric hospital, nestled quietly in a darkened street surrounded by the vandalism and graffiti that plagued The City. It was here amongst the rise of rundown apartment buildings and shady convenience stores that Leon almost captured the Abandoned Title months ago. Since the initiation weeks ago, Leon had been putting this moment off, knowing that this place, this house of havoc was plagued by painful distant memories; it was hard to accept it as a new home. It was a move that Leon loathe, however little did he know that the new location would not only play a despised location in Leon’s future, but it would be the location where his other SoA brother Celt would despise as well. As it was in these dormant halls of pain and suffering that Leon would finally progress onwards. There was no more pain, no more sorrow, and no more anger. It was contained and he was free.

Moisture marred the large cold metal rungs that adorned the blemished glass doors. It was an early chilled morning as Leon approached the abandoned hospital, the temperature dropped to as low as two degrees Celsius that night, a seemingly minor note, but it in turn explained why Leon would arrive in a pair of thick blue jeans and an oversized grey parker. The frost had already liquefied as the cold metal pushed through the cotton gloves that gripped them, swinging them open, allowing the warmer cycles of air to gush through the open doorway and into the pale-skinned face of Leon, which alone was inviting enough to enter the facility. Leon eyed the structure he was about to step into, giving it an all around disapproving sigh before he stepped into the building and let the final strands of chilled air seep through the doorway behind him, until the glass doors firmly closed shut.

The feeble lights above barely pierced any clots of darkness on the dark concrete floor around Leon as he strode into the building. He hurriedly unzipped his parker before continuing up the seemingly familiar hallway, allowing his body to adjust from the chilled street breeze. As Leon began to walk through the rundown and still hallways he began to observe the amount of broken glass cracking beneath his feet, obviously fallen from the observation windows belonging to the heavily padded patient rooms. As Leon continued to progress down the hallway his thoughts began to drift to the reasoning that the “clubhouse” was such a wreak. Was it always like this, or was this evidence of HavOc’s former ways. As Leon strode further down the hallway, observing every patient room that seemed a meter apart he eventually halted in front of one. Tilting his head to the side and gradually twisting his body to the same direction he stood in stillness, observing the room with mixed emotions. There for all eyes to see was another vandalized room, however beyond the broken glass and heavy scratches on the grey metal door something caught Leon’s eye inside the room. Within the stripped room, hidden in the darkness of the furthest corner laid a dark purple book, only seeable through its silver lining of its hard covers reflected off what light was present in the room. Now normally Leon would see it, offer a curious look and pass by, however this wasn’t some backstage arena. Within this building was an immense amount of pain, torment and anger, and that isn’t even including the acts that Havoc had in this place. So with hesitant steps, Leon gently pressed against the aged metal door, forcing it to move sparsely as Leon past through it and into the confinements of the room of agony. With gradual pace Leon curiously shuffled into the darkened corner of the room and with soft hands lifted the faded brittle book. Staring into its darken covers for what seemed like minutes was Leon’s gaze as his mind battled the motion of opening the book or leaving it in its solitude. However, the choice would be interrupted by a warming voice.


Celt: Should I ask why you are alone in a padded room?

Swiftly with a moment of unexpected shock Leon tilted his body 180 degrees to be greeted by his recently initiated stable member. As Celt looked into the room through the wide opening to where an observation window once laid, Leon slowly and carefully hid the book behind his back, casually taking the point of asking about the book from Celt’s mouth.

Leon: I was checking to see what it felt to be inside one of these rooms, to feel the painful side of solitude.

Celt: Well that’s just unpleasant.

With little reasoning for Leon to remain in the room he gradually progressed through the thin opening in the doorway to now stand beside Celt as he continues to observe the room Leon walked out of. Finding nothing within the room to satisfy his curious mind.

Leon: So I see you found your way here.

Celt: As much as I wish I got lost and never found this place.

The tone in Celt’s voice was filled with a stagnate anger, an anger that came from uncertain circumstances, no doubt a priority to Celt to unravel and dispose of.

Leon: Well it’s not like this place is Disneyland or Hollywood.

Celt’s thoughts were seemingly elsewhere as he slowly sought to respond to Leon’s obvious remark.

Celt: No, instead it’s the location to where HavOc schemed their plans, a place of pure evil.

The resentment for his currently location flowed from every pore of Celt’s being as he lowered his eyebrows and sharpened his gaze, almost as if he expected Harlequin himself to turn the next corner.

Leon: Well that is in the past Celt, Its just Frost, you and I for now, so relax.

The ending words of Leon’s comment shifted the irritated gaze of Celt to stare straight into Leon’s perplexed gaze.

Celt: Frost was HavOc, he attacked me, he tried to end my career, and now you think I can wish away the past.

Leon: He’s changed Celt, HavOc is dead.

Celt failed to lift his gaze as he still sought to confirm his irritation of Frost’s past and current behavior.

Celt: Frost was a monster before, now I can see that he has changed his actions, but that doesn’t silence the monster within, it’s simply a cloak.

Leon: You are wrong Celt, and you’ll see. Frost has changed and he truly wants to work with you … Now I know you still have bad blood between you, but right now we are all reaching high points to make a name for this team, so can you just observe Frost’s behaviors but keep your words soft?

Celt’s words were swift as he responded with what seemed little thought.

Celt: Not until I know that the monster inside has died. He’s still a risk and I’m not going to gamble with death, so let me handle this.

With his words said, Celt suddenly lifted his heavy gaze from Leon and carried on through the hallway. Leaving little concentration to observe his surroundings Celt eventually turned down the hallway’s dark corner and left the sight of Leon. Leaving Caprice to dwell on what was said and leave the gloomy hallway and observation room in complete emptiness with his new book resting at his side as he strode down the long halls.

Resentment & Anger: Is a lingering drive, it is one that can last forever, until it eventually outlasts your self control.


***Yo-He-Va-He***


To be driven by Fear

“When one has the feeling of dislike for evil, when one feels tranquil, one finds pleasure in listening to good teachings; when one has these feelings and appreciates them, one is free of fear.”
Buddha


The scene would reopen to the day after 12.3. The location was the warming house of Leon and Sarah Caprice. A knock on the front door is met with a weak but strangely confident response of “Enter”. Through the same door steps Leon Caprice, a smile on his face, as he stares at the wife of the home. The beautiful wife looks up with her gorgeous eyes at the man in front of her and signals for him to sit beside her with a warming hand gesture. Leon just takes it all in.

Sarah: Good evening sweetie, how was work?

Leon: It was long and boring, always is when I’m not booked for a match. So what’s been happening here?

The room would be filled with the presence of Leon, Sarah, Leah, the twins and Jade. With Sarah restfully sitting beside Jade in two comfortable grey armchairs, both consumed in vision of Leon, who would be standing in front of them. Leah was located to the side of the room, tending to her children of April and John, making sure that the coloring-in books would suffice them, until they finally fell tired and needed to go to sleep.

Jade: It’s about time that we’ve worn out our welcome here. Leah needs to have her space and start her life again and I need to get back to my former projects. Skyler isn’t going to save himself.

Jade would quietly give her feedback, as Leah rejoins the conversation by sitting beside her intellectual step-daughter.

Leon: I had a chat with Skyler today, he doesn’t want my help ever. Anyway, You know you can stay Leah…

Leah: I-I wanted to say something before, but I didn’t want this to worry you. I know you would let us stay forever but I can’t, we need to start again somewhere and right now we are just getting in the way

The conversation was growing in weight as they continued to discuss the possibilities. Could Leah and the twins survive by themselves, would Jade really be able to help Skyler. But before anyone could add more words to the conversation a knock echoed through the room, originating from the front door. With perplexed expressions as to who it was Leon gradually made his way to the entrance and began to unlock the door. With little wonder of whom it was Leon opened the door to his surprising guest.

Leon: Skyler…you want to come in.

Skyler: Evidently.

With little pleasantries at the door, Leon signaled for Skyler to move past him and greet the people already inside. With little need to ask twice, Skyler progressed into the house, giving a forced smile to Sarah before acknowledging his family. However something was off, he didn’t greet them as his family or put up his arrogant appeal. Instead he looked to them with weighted eyes, and a heavy mouth. He needed to say something.

Jade: Thanks for coming dad.

Leon: You invited him here… What for?

It truly caught Leon off guard. For so many months Leon wished he could simply do this. To see Skyler away from FMW and just talk to him, but what was going to happen now. It’s too irregular for this to be about nothing.

Skyler: Bet you didn’t expect me when you opened that door Leon

Leon: Truly I can say I didn’t.

Jade: Dad, tell them what you told me, they need to know.

Here it was, the weighted words, what was it? Was Skyler leaving the country, did he find another woman, the suspense was growing.

Leon: What do we need to know? Skyler…

Leah: What is it. Tell us.

Skyler: I’m not going to beat around this. I’m booking myself into rehab.

Leon: Rehab, as in an institution to help you?

Skyler: Yes Leon, exactly that!

The frustration was growing in both Skyler’s words and expression. It was hard enough to tell those who were hearing this, but he didn’t need to be questioned. If he was asked to many times he surely would change his mind.

Sarah: Well I’m happy for you Skyler, if we can help at all.

Skyler: You’ve already done enough. Thank you for helping Leah, April and John.

Leah: So what does this mean. For us?

The mixed questions surrounded the room, whether it was adding pressure to Skyler or not was a well hidden fact. But for now, only good things were being revealed.

Skyler: Can I talk to each of you in private.

And now the weight would finally be lifted. As everyone but Leah and Skyler left the room, it almost began to become a nervous situation. What would Skyler say to them, had he really changed yet.

Leon: How did you get him to come here.

Jade: He was wanting to come here, I just needed to give him the address.

Go figure, Skyler a man who last night had showed nothing but arrogance & self-involvement now wanted to go to rehab. He wanted to say his final goodbyes…He was changing, finally.

It was a few minutes before Leah made her way to Leon and Sarah, giving a nod for Jade to take her place with Skyler. Looking at Leah she was already crying, her eyes were glassed over. But this wasn’t from sadness or receiving the anger that Skyler had always shown of late, it was joy and positivity. What had changed in Skyler?

Whatever it was it had defused the fear in Leah’s expression, she almost seemed consumed in worry as she told Leon and Sarah that she was leaving. Whatever Skyler said, it had removed the fear and replaced it with reassurance. What was it though.


Jade: He wants to see you now Leon.

Here it was, was this to be the point where Skyler was saved. Where he would apologize for all he’s done, or would this be another arrogant display. As Leon made his way into the large living room he immediately drew the attention of Skyler, with a quick moment to assess the expression on Skyler’s face Leon casually sad beside Skyler on the available cream leather chair.

Skyler: So I guess you have a few questions for me, and I get that. I probably ought to answer them. But I’m going to rehab, so I don’t care right now what you think of that. But-

Leon: I’m all for it. And I don’t have any questions for you. You showing up here answered them all…It’s good to see you Sky.

Still the irritation of Leon calling him “Sky” got to Striker. But it was Leon’s way of teasing him now, that although Skyler had just made the smartest decision of his past 6 months, he didn’t escape Leon’s attitude.

Skyler: But this doesn’t change anything Leon, I’ll say thank you for taking care of Leah and the twins, but I still won’t forgive you for your endless attempts to “save me”.

As much as Leon wanted to say that he saved himself, it was wrong. Right now nothing needed to be changed or challenged, if that is what Skyler believed then it needed to stay the same. He had finally made a good decision, there was no need to question that or tarnish it.

Leon: I understand and I didn’t expect an apology…So is there anything you want me to do while you are gone.

It was a deep question as it slowly resided in Skyler’s thoughts, did he need Leon to do anything? Had he already done enough. Eventually Skyler replied with a deep tone, showing the weight of his words.

Skyler: Just keep an eye on Leah. I know she’ll be alright now, but make sure she settles in fine and doesn’t spend all that money at once.

Money that was it. How could she move out and survive with the twins. He had to have given her financial support. And if it was Skyler writing the cheque, then the sky was the limit for the amount.

Leon: I will.

There wasn’t much more to say. Obviously Skyler hadn’t fully changed yet, but he was on his way, and there was no point questioning that or asking him why. In these cases it’s preferred to let the lost find their way, because whatever is guiding them internally is motivated to find the solution. So although Leon wished he could do more, that he could drive Skyler to rehab or see him every week, he needed to let him go. There was no need for Skyler to still be thinking of his current twisted situation, he needed to be free.

Leon: So this is it then.

Skyler: For now.

It was the closing of a chapter. Skyler was going, Leah was leaving, and that was it. It was time to say goodbye and move to the next chapter of the book.

Leon: Well when you get out, don’t hesitate to come by.

Skyler: You think I’ll drive past this dump again.

Leon: I’ll look forward to seeing you too Sky.

Slowly Leon and Skyler rose from the chairs they resided in. Realizing that the need to be confined to chat was over they both gradually made their way to the front door, passing the sight of Sarah, Leah and Jade a gentle smile and a light wave was all that Skyler could muster. But it was enough.

Leon: So I’m sure when I see you next I’ll be holding your old title.

Skyler: Wonderful, if I come back it’ll be an easy win to get my title back.

Leon: You can try.

Skyler: And I’ll win, I’ll always win against you.

Leon: We’ll see Sky… Take care of yourself.

A little bit of kidding around was all Skyler could muster to say goodbye to Leon. Although with all they’ve been through, more would be expect, but Leon knew that it was enough. Skyler was finally doing the right thing.

With a few more steps taken Leon politely opened the door ahead of Skyler and gentlemanly let his former mentor through. As Skyler past by and through the door, seemingly to never turn around and return until he saw that rehab had worked he did something unexpected to all.


Skyler: I’m sorry.

With those words lightly spoken under his breath so only Leon could hear he swiftly moved through the open doorway and never looked back. He was now gone, but he wouldn’t be quickly forgotten.

And as Leon slowly closed the door he couldn’t help but feel the pressures of what he was literally doing. Here he was closing the door on the chapter of Skyler Striker.


Fear: So quick to be subdued through circumstances, but one that creates irrational actions.


***Yo-He-Va-He***

To be driven by Materialism

”Materialism coarsens and petrifies everything, making everything vulgar, and every true, false.”
Henri Frederic Amiel


The scene opens to the sound and vision of heels of shoes clicking against the clouded black concrete flooring. The shined black shoes clicked across the flooring, keeping the fabric of the dress pants flowing with the man’s stride. The man’s pace was brisk but he kept his peaceful stride with no added labor to his movement. Rounding the corner of the hall the man reached with one hand to straighten his tie ever so slightly before running his hand through his shortened black hair and gradually through an open doorway.

???: Now what the fuck is this? Come to see me after I retained my glorious title

Leon: Great to see you to Seth.

The essence of being a champion had truly drowned Omega of late, almost as if the title had bolstered his ability to be more of a pompous arse. He must have realised it though, the change in his character, it’s not like it was unbeknown to the locker room, news of Seth’s ever growing title reign traveled quicker than the news of Skyler’s retirement or Celeste’s death, but that was nothing to brag about. But nothing could stop Omega now. He was a current champion of FMW and for now, the locker room would have to endure the tyranic ramblings of an over confident champion.

Omega: So what the fuck do you want, to offer your assistance to carry my bags?

The brashness of Seth’s vocabulary took Leon back, normally it was an enduring point to take with conversations with Seth, but now it was irking Leon.

Leon: Hardly Seth, by now you know me. Only business when I’m in the suit.

Omega: Go ahead and speak your business then, just don’t waste the champs time.

The essence of temptation slowly crept around Leon as he quickly solidified himself to keep his cool. He had just reassured himself that he wouldn’t fall back into those habits, that he would steer clear of the common anger. So as a replacement to his underlying anger he replaced it with a sense of humor and deliverance.

Leon: Oh I wouldn’t dare waste the champ’s time, so many interviews so little time I guess.

Omega: Oh Leon, you with your clean mind. It’s all about the women. First you make the money, then you take the power, then you get the women. And do I get them!

The self proclamination stank out the room, was Seth really that self indulged, that delusional to sense his own cockiness.

Leon: Cut the crap Seth, listen to yourself and realize that this title run wont last forever, you will lose eventually.

Omega: To who Leon? I have beaten Hannibal Frost the former champion, I have beaten the likes of Chris Austin and Harley Quint. And I have just defeated the former number one contender. Losing is beneath me now. I am going to reign as champion far beyond Skyler’s attempt. Because I am the champion for a reason.

It seemed like nothing would get through, that every attempt to bring clarity was met by a corresponding egotistical comment. It only made what Leon did next that much more exciting. For as they say, twice the pride, double the fall.

Leon: Well then champ, don’t let me ruin your victory tonight, but do me a favor and don’t get too drunk with your victory. I want a challenge come next show.

Omega: What the fuck are you talking about Frost-Lite!! You are challenging me?

Leon: Smitten has approved the match, and even threw in my contract with it. So again, don’t let your stomach do the talking Seth, be responsible and show me that you’re more than just your feeble words.

The words were deeply spoken as they, took all then attention from Seth as he now concluded his intoxication of victory. Truly taking the time to analyse the circumstance, Seth would soon snap out of his cheerful mood and turn his attention to the new contender in front of him. An old enemy and a former partner, it was on again and this time the stakes were raised.

Omega: Don’t think that you can talk me down from my reign Leon. I am the Abandoned Champion, I did what you failed to do. I beat Hannibal Frost and now I’ll beat you all the same.

Leon: You can try Seth, but we both know our history, the important wins and losses. And you know as well as I that it is indeed you that needs to talk me down. Because you need to outlast me here, and from our recent records, you’re behind there.

It was a humorous point to try and deflate Omega’s ego with his own. A technique Leon knew would work efficiently to rile Omega up. That as of now his victory over AVO was forgotten, that now his attention was on Leon. And how Leon desired nothing more.

Omega: You are just the same as AVO. Same old fan just different shit hitting the fan.

Leon: Well I’m sorry for whatever part of you that AVO threw into the fan, I’ll make sure I throw your ego up there and keep throwing it up until its as small as your current title reign.

Omega: I am the FUCKING champion! And you Leon, you’re that fat kid who wants a BB Gun in the Christmas Story? Climbing all the way up that slide only to be kicked in the face and tumble back down into the pit of mediocrity where you truly belong. Learn your place, because it ain’t as the Abandoned Champion.

Leon: Well I’m sure I’m a good chance to win it, especially since its probably a No DQ match, you have seen the Sons of Attrition right? Because I’m pretty sure Frost wanted to say something to you.

Omega: Fuck him! And Fuck you Leon!! Get out of here, before I give you the close up of this title.

Seth would point pass Leon as the seriousness in his words would gradually take residence in his outward expressions. By now it was obvious that nothing more could be said to encourage Seth to act accordingly. He was a wild dog, with an unpredictable bite, but now Leon had showed him the next door to bark at, meaning Leon would have to fight to the end to achieve his elusive reward. But all Leon could do now was take faith that Seth would conclude to himself that he would need to be at his best. That with the possibility of Hannibal Frost and The Celt at ringside, he would have to be the glorious Champion.

Leon knew that there was nothing more to say, he had informed the champ and got under his skin. It was a tactic that seemed almost out of character for Leon, however something’s need to change for the next attempt to succeed, and the first step was to take Seth’s ego out of the equation. With the final words already spoken, Leon casually left the room with only Seth’s inaudible sigh and anger as the reply he predicted.


Materialism: The blinding drive, the intoxication of its power is often under-rated, it’s only when the material is lost that the true alignment of the drive is revealed.


***Yo-He-Va-He***


To be driven by the need for Approval

“People who want the most approval get the least and people who need approval the least get the most.
Wayne Dyer


Leon: It’s done, I met up with him and he’s got our offer now.

Frost: Well it’s only time now, did he seem interested?

The scene would awaken into the center of what could only be seen to be the Asylum. Lying in what looked to be the doctor’s lounge by the kitchen setup coinciding with three plush leather couches, that each Leon, Frost and Celt sat in. It was a darkened room, whether from the lack of strong lighting or the fact that the paint that once resided on the walls around them was peeling off. The place itself truly needed to be redone.

Leon: He did, he asked the typical questions but I told him the reason we picked him out.

Celt: Which is what?

Frost: Well he is a man we could see improving through being part of this. He already had similar beliefs to us, so he’ll think about it, but he’ll definitely join us.

Leon: It would seem that way, he seemed eager once I left. I’m sure if I stuck around he might have said yes there and then.

Celt: Why didn’t you.

The curiosity flowed out of Celt’s mouth with much intent, asking the questions that had already been answered long ago.

Frost: Because we don’t want to work behind the scenes, what we do needs to be seen, and his initiation needs to be public.

Leon: Especially since he’s the last now, we’ve got to make a strong public showing with this. Show that come Mt Vesuvius Sons of Attrition is consolidated and ready.

Celt: What so that FMW can approve of us?

A slight sigh was emitted from Frost’s lips as he responded to Celt’s barrage of questions.

Frost: Yes, we need to show that we are logistically here for FMW, not ourselves.

Celt: Alright then.

Leon: Plus we need to be the response to Celeste’s death. That with some men wanting to take FMW in their own hands we will be there to fill the void.

Celt: Some good timing there then.

Frost: Indeed it was. But we have to look forward, with our 4th member almost here we need to start planning out our executions.

With a moment for all men to ponder on the situation that was slowly unraveling it seemed that they were all arriving on the same page. That with the 4th member in final decision of joining nothing would stop SoA from arriving in FMW. The plans had been places, the actions so far had been performed excellently, now all that stood ahead was the fun part, ridding FMW of its luggage once and for all.

Celt: Well Leon’s got the title match against Seth for one. Now that’s a starting point.

Frost: Indeed, we can’t let that go un-noticed. As much as I’d like to get my own penance on Seth, this is your chance Leon.

Leon: I know, and I understand the severity of the match. So I guess I can count on you guys to be at ringside.

Celt: As long as you reciprocate the favor.

Leon: Well if I make it out in one piece then sure.

Frost: We’ll be there for you Leon, you’ll be the key point for this show, so expect reinforcements. As for us Celt, let’s just work on being on the same page, alright?

Celt: You’ll hear no arguments from me, just make sure you do what you have to do.

A somewhat questionable feeling was overflowing the conversation as the Sons of Attrition began to dissect the situation and realize the conditions of the upcoming show. They couldn’t afford to miss a step, not with the eyes of FMW watching. They needed to be approved as a united stable and that’s exactly what each man knew in their core. So although the conversation continued with each member sharing his thoughts and growing in confidence of them succeeding, it was still in development stages. But one thing stood out.

It all started with Leon capturing the Abandoned title, removing the plague that coated it, and from then the attrition would begin.


Need for Approval: A drive that only grows in power, one that does push a man to his limits. To the point where he goes high or goes home.

To be driven is something that simply comes about, whether it’s one of these five or something completely different, but unfortunately most different forces that drive us lead to the same dead end: Unused potential, unnecessary stress, and an unfulfilled life.

So what is the point then, to look for fear, for guilt or materials to obsess about, hardly…

It’s to live your life with your heart on your sleeve, to take every attack, every enemy not as a burden to handle or a mountain to overcome, but something to drive you, to empower you.

So for Leon, whether it’s the pressure of being a father, decisions of being a stable member, or aggression to being a champion it’s all driven in some way.

So truly,
What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 3:58 pm


Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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The Celt

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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 5:50 pm

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)
Oh Seth...

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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Leon Caprice




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 6:53 pm

[center]Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
Loved all the promos in this match, even if CGS downplayed his. Definately looking forward to the final result.
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Tromboner Man
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 8:17 pm

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey


Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice

Main Event Handicap Match
Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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https://www.facebook.com/trombonerman
David GS
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 8:33 pm

-Corruption 12.3-
LIVE from the Sinan Erdem Dome in Istanbul, Turkey


Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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Lazyking




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 9:37 pm

Watching the mark though the scope, my left eye followed the man’s movement.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Over and over again, the heavyset European man paced in front of his five star hotel room. He had been pacing for the last half hour.

Like he was waiting to be killed?

I rested my right forefinger on the M40 sniper rifle, checked the distance once again; 550 meters, an easy shot, for me anyway.

I hadn’t killed anyone in a while, but I knew that for me, it was like a riding a bike.

I lightly squeezed the trigger just as I saw the European’s head enter the scope.

A second late, a puff of red mist appeared in my scope.

I took out my prepaid cell and dialed a memorized number.


“It’s done” I said, already putting the rifle back in its case and closing my hotel window.

“Good job Atlas, how many kills is that now?” My boss, Frank Landon asked.

I sighed,
“39.”

“Soon to be 40”

“Who’s next?” I asked, with the rifle case over my shoulder, stepping into an elevator and pressing for the parking garage.

“Someone close,” I could hear Frank chuckle. “Someone real close.”

Stepping out of the elevator, I walked over to my rental car and unlocked the trunk. Placing the case inside, I closed the trunk and asked Frank a question that my mind was begging to ask.

“Why the European? I looked into him and he’s not the kind of guy I used to take out for the company. I don’t know –

Frank sternly interrupted me. “That’s right, you don’t know Atlas. Your job is to kill people, not to think. I even allow you to wrestle. The whole reason you killed that man is because FMW Corruption just happens to be in Turkey this weekend.”

I got in to my rental car and inwardly sighed. I hadn’t thought about my match that was tomorrow. I was teaming with some FMW newbie and we were facing two rocker wannabes. Should be a cake walk, right? No, instead of focusing on the match, I was killing someone. I hadn’t even talked to my partner yet.

I started the car up and spoke to my boss.


“Your right, I shouldn’t think about killing, I should just do it. I have to go now.”

“Good luck Atlas.” Frank said, before the line went dead.

I paused to close my phone and then I began the drive to arena.


The arena, the ring and the crowd; the one place I felt truly at home, felt safe. I needed that escape from my doomed reality. No one, not my partner tomorrow, nor my opponents will take that away from me.
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Lazyking




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 9:39 pm

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Cliff Carson & Atlas Adams vs. Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*Butters vs. Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice vs. Seth Omega (c)

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt vs. Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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Drew Michaels
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 11:48 pm

Contract on the Line Match
Ryan Reynolds vs. Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Contract on the Line Tag Match
Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance*

Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice

Main Event Handicap Match
Hannibal Frost & the Celt
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 11:49 pm

Life was always pretty easy for me.

A normal birth, normal body, normal kid. I was your typical guy growing up; a happy, smiling young child whom matured, almost overnight, into a startling, apathetic adolescent. One thing that I dragged through the change with me was my passion for wrestling. As a youth I begged my parents to purchase for me the World Wrestling Federation pay-per-views, watching all the greats; Hogan, Savage, the British Bulldog, Steamboat, DiBiase... the type of men we now call legends. I idolized them, I wanted to be them.

Time passed, as I mentioned, and my teenage years attacked me with all their zit-marked horror. I started playing truant, drinking underage. I wasn't really sure why, I guess I just fell into the wrong crowd. But at the time, education seemed like a waste of life. And after a couple of fortys I'd impress the skanky girls my friends and I used to hang (and sleep) around with by showing off a headlock, or a suplex, something that got my blood flowing, my muscles pumping, my sweat shining.

I guess I was a wannabe rebel because I was never that gifted academically. I wasn't stupid, don't misunderstand. I just never cared for listening to some stiff talk about the history of the Aztecs or the unique geography of Venezuela. Who gives a damn about that sort of thing? No, my expertise lay in the outside world, where I could roam, do as I please. And so it came to pass that my buddies and I made our own backyard troupe, the Californian Thunder Wrestling promotion. Yes, I'm from Cali. Because that's clearly giving away my identity.

CTW was, so far as I can tell, a big hit. We had the typical backyard stuff; hardcore action mostly, kids emulating wrestling's attitude era. We drew decent enough crowds, even played a couple of shows in local gaming halls and the like. It became apparent though that most of them were just in it for fun, but a couple of us – myself included – thought we had a shot at the big time. It helped that I was at least a head taller than all of the people I worked with and against. My other area of expertise lay in the field of technical wrestling, brought about by my constant watching of the sport as a kid. I'm no Chris Austin when it comes to studying but I had a pretty kitted out moveset, if I might be so modest.

This is what made my teachers sit up and pay attention, something I'd been dodging all my life. At junior high I was asked by one of my tutors to take a look into joining the amateur wrestling team. They told me that if I could walk the walk when it came to my athleticism, I'd be able to scrape by on my barely-passable grades... which was fine by me. By my senior year I was hitting the mat on a state level. I tried out for nationals, but some dumbass with a lisp named Jack beat me. Still, state was good enough for me to be accepted by San Francisco State College on a wrestling scholarship.

I guess my college life isn't really too important. Had a fraternity, scored a lot, the stereotypical college movie brought to life. The wrestling stayed with me though. Always.

But enough of this life story you need to hear nothing about.

My life story ended when I was involved in a car crash that killed my parents.

It was the final day of my semester. An exhibition match was scheduled between me and one of the guys who was trained by Kurt Angle. Not to disrespect Angle, but he's a far better sportsman than an educator. I destroyed his hand-crafted creation. No malice intended, it was all for the sake of the game. That's one thing I learned about myself; I do what I do because I can. Anyway, after the match my mom and dad were taking me out for dinner, to celebrate. I laid back in the back seat of my dad's car, a little out of breath, and closed my eyes. I guess my opponent wore me out a little more than my pride would let on.

That's why I never saw the other car coming.

I shan't bore you with a list of injuries. Suffice to say, I broke two ribs, had a fractured skull – but my face ended up the worst. It smashed into the roof of the car as my father, mother and I veered out of control. Then, a still, eerie blackness, from which I've been struggling to escape from for years.

~ ~ ~

Man #1: Are you certain about this?

Man #2: Positive. He has the same height and body structure as myself, and with some cardiovascular exercise on the lower torso, one could mistake him for my twin brother.

Man #1: Why, because both your faces are as ugly as shit?

Man #2:

I've been in a coma for eight months at this point. I'm slightly aware of my own body, and that's about it.

But it's hard to not know when hands are touching your body, and evil faces loom over yours.


Man #1: So, the kid's got some previous background?

Man #2: Indeed. After the fiascos with Alpha and Beta, I took it upon myself to find a suitable replacement in the event anything happens to me. That way the mantle can be passed on. This guy's perfect... although the search wasn't easy.

Man #1: Stop referring to yourselves as anything other than what I call you. How many times, Virus? Individuality breeds difference, and my Virus can conquer everything and anything. A different name makes you a different person – one less effective.

A different name...?

I can't remember my name any more. It's been too long since I used it. Not that I care to think about my perfect life before he ruined it.


Gamma: My apologies, Jaro.

Jaro: I should fucking think so too. So can we wake him up?

Gamma: We can try.

Searing pain. That, on the other hand, is not easy to forget. With no sense of delicate care, the being evil called 'Virus' yanked me out of my hospital bed, taking me away from my life-support machines, and stole me away in the night.

~ ~ ~

Gamma: No, no, no! Harder! Hit me again!

After a rude awakening that I'm assured involved nipple clamps and nine-volt batteries (I'm serious) I began my training with my predecessor, Virus-Gamma. While I had prior extensive knowledge of the basics, it was left to Gamma, as he liked to be known, to teach me in his spare time.

Gamma: You're pathetic! Come here, I'll show you how it's done!

He was never a forgiving teacher.

I spent all my former life ducking these types. When I had nothing left to live for, why bother?


Gamma: OK. We're done Pass me that bottle of water... now. You need to realise something. Your apathy is limiting your performance. Why do you not even care? ...don't answer that, I already know your response. And yes. It's hard, being us. Our collective is one of scorn. The Virus is something that most people fear and with good reason. Anyone could be infected at any time. But what they don't realise – not even our boss Jason – is that a virus will naturally mutate in order to strengthen. When old tactics don't work they switch their moves, change their bodies. Therefore, the Virus is not to be feared. Only the stupid fear the inevitable infection. The Virus is to be respected.

Someone normal would feel anger at this... but for the first time since the car crash, I had a purpose. Imagine living without a reason to live. The soul-crushing despair of that is something I never want to live through, ever again.

Delta: Then... let us infect the world.

Gamma: Finally, a breakthrough. Are you now ready for your first test?

Delta: I am.

Gamma: You will take my place as Jason's bodyguard and aide until such time as I ask you to raise the next mutagen. And you have a handicap match against the Sons of Attrition. I would ask you to make me proud... but you know we cannot allow ourselves emotion. And Delta?

Delta: Yes Gamma?

Gamma: Tell nobody of this. Act how you want, but ensure that you are known as the Virus and the Virus alone. That is our ultimate mission.
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RCA
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeWed Jan 12, 2011 11:59 pm

Bonesnapper (with Mathias von Koenig)

Axel van Osbourne & Trey Spruance

Jeff Whitt

FMW Abandoned Championship Match
Leon Caprice

Main Event Handicap Match
Christian G. Smitten, the Virus, & Faith (with TyranT)
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Leon Caprice




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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitimeThu Jan 13, 2011 1:22 am

And this is LOCKED!!

Thanks to all who promo'd and voted. Show will be up ASAP
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PostSubject: Re: CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD   CORRUPTION 12.3 VOTING & PROMO THREAD I_icon_minitime

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